Heir to the Throne
by Misgel
Summary: As a foster child, Orion Pax Witwicky never knew his parents. . When a fateful encounter throws him in the center of the Autobot-Decepticon War, he finds himself in the claws of Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. There he learns that he is the human reincarnation of Nightstalker, the true heir to Megatron's throne. Co-authored with Aethelgythe!
1. Chapter 1

**Misgel: Hey, everyone! Aethelgythe and I decided that Megatron is our favorite Decepticon, and decided to write our own fanfiction! She's an awesome writer and has a lot of cool stories, so if you like this, check them out! This was fun to write, and we have a lot of ideas, so I'm excited to see where this story goes!**

* * *

 **~65 million years ago~**

Starlight never imagined that she would one day become a Decepticon prisoner. Yet after nearly 250 years, she was still confined to a single, lonely cell in the bowels of Megatron's fortress. The young femme should have known that it shouldn't have been surprising, given her association with the Autobots.

She was not a warrior and had never set foot upon a battlefield. She was an energon and weapons supplier. A neutral with sympathies for the Autobots. Her caravan was ambushed during a supply run to Iacon. The five mechs and three femmes that accompanied her, were all killed in the attack. Only six of them were armed Autobot soldiers, acting as their escorts. The other two were civilians like her.

Starlight was injured. The Decepticons put a blaster shot through her motor relays in her right leg, preventing her from running or escaping. It was only after they had taken her to the Decepticon capital of Kaon, that she learned the reason why she'd been spared. They believed that she had intel concerning Autobot movements in the nearby region or in the very least, knew the access codes for the last three energon refining stations.

Starlight knew nothing and she was tortured because they didn't believe her and assumed she was lying. Her torture lasted for what felt like an eternity.

Then came the fateful day when she met Megatron for the first time, face-to-face. The moment he entered her cell and set blood-red optics on her, he gave her an unidentifiable expression. Starlight's armor clamped down in fear as she felt that odd gaze rake up and down her body. Her spark pulsed rapidly in its chamber.

The prisoner knew she would not survive the Decepticon lord's interrogation. She was a neutral, but she was not deaf to the stories of the tyrant's brutality. Almost rivaling Zeta Prime's bloodthirstiness. Or, perhaps, her captors grew tired of her, and Megatron had come to personally terminate her.

Starlight flinched, violently, when long, silver claws seized her chin. Her helm was tilted up to meet that vermillion glare.

"What is your designation?" the titan demanded, but his tone was not harsh and cruel as her former interrogators. It was low and deep, like thunder drifting from the horizon.

"S-Starlight," she stammered.

She thought if she answered quickly, her torturers would get what they wanted and let her live. Part of her knew it was fruitless. Her black and white painting was dull and marred by scratches, scorch marks, and bent metal. Dried energon still clung to unwelded wires.

Megatron hummed, tilting her helm this way and that, like he was trying to inspect every wire in her chassis. Including her chest, barren of any insignia. "So what they tell me is true. You are a neutral." There was a slight snarl at the latter sentence, lip curling to reveal razor-sharp denta. Like he was disgusted, but before Starlight could speak, he added, "So tell me, _Starlight,_ why were you with an _Autobot_ convoy?"

Without hesitation, the femme told the same story she had told a thousand times. Instead of a hiss or a roar or blow to the helm, Megatron listened intently and merely cocked his helm to the side when she was finished. Starlight could not read that inscrutable expression, and braced for the warlord to deem her useless, and put an end to her.

He surprised her.

"I believe you," he rumbled.

Starlight believed she didn't hear him right. "You… what?"

"You are not of the warrior class. Upper caste, judging by your frame. You have no battle scars, no reinforced plating, and I've been told you hardly put up a fight."

The prisoner's gaze drifted downward in shame, but her captor would not give her that luxury. Crimson optics glared into her yellow ones.

"After all, there are other ways to find a fresh source of energon rather than waste time butchering such a pretty femme."

...What?

With that, Megatron left as quickly as he came. It puzzled her.

She didn't see him again until the day when she received an un-welcomed guest. A Decepticon, responsible for energon depriving her. They only gave her enough to keep her alive. Many did so to torture her, despite her innocence. Some did so for sport. They were the Decepticons who made bets on her, to see how long it would take for her body to shut down in stasis lock.

Her torturer came to reveal his true, sinister intentions. He attacked her, throwing her to the floor. Before Starlight could work up a scream, claws pulled at her chest armor, trying to force the plating apart. She screamed for help as she fought against him but was still considerably weakened since her lousy, bite-sized energon ration was long overdue. Starlight began to lose all hope that someone would come to her aid as her screams picked up in intensity. She sobbed as she struggled to protect her spark.

Then there was a horrible sound as the door was violently kicked down. Her attacker was roughly hauled off of her and thrown across the room.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Megatron thundered in rage. He turned hate-filled optics on the Con who intended but failed to force a bond upon Starlight.

Starlight's chest armor had been damaged from the cruel brute who had been trying to force it open. The femme was curled up in a corner, hugging her knees against her chassis with a whimper. As coolant leaked from her yellow optics, they darted between her attacker and her potential savior.

"You disobeyed my direct order!" Megatron seethed as he unsheathed his arm-blade. He took slow, menacing steps in his direction.

"You didn't claim her! So I-"

"-chose to double cross me and claim her for yourself. Yet my order was quite simple and easy enough for a simpleton like you, to understand! What _was_ my command?"

The mech shifted awkwardly from one pede to the other as he carefully considered how to answer his leader's question.

"That no one was permitted to touch her."

With a deep growl, Megatron walked over to where Starlight was still huddled and pulled her to her feet. He grabbed her by both shoulders and spun her around towards her attacker.

"What does THIS look like to you?!" Megatron hissed with narrowed optics as he gestured down at the trembling femme's damaged chest armor.

The insubordinate Con sneered in open defiance and jabbed a finger in their direction.

"She's an Autobot sympathizer! A weak, useless neutral! She's only good for **_one thing_** …"

Megatron gently shoved Starlight aside.

"You will pay the ultimate price for your treason!"

With a furious roar, Megatron slammed the Con against the wall. In less than ten seconds, the traitor was impaled and then beheaded.

The fearless warlord turned to regard the prisoner with a small frown. He retracted his sword and with a subtle, softened expression, he extended a hand in invitation.

"Come. My medic must examine you."

She stared suspiciously at the offered servo. Why would this mech, _leader_ of those who had hurt her, help her? Starlight glanced at the greying husk on the floor, servos shielding the scratches on her chest. The mech had come to _claim_ her. What was to stop Megatron from doing the same?

Then her optics flickered to the disembodied helm, jaw hanging loosely with a lifeless gaze staring at nothing. But he had…

The Decepticon lord seemed to recognize her fear.

"You will find I do not have the same taste for such detestable behavior," he rumbled, in a low, almost _gentle_ purr.

Starlight was only confused, and no more convinced. But she did not want stay in this dark world anymore.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached a slender servo out to grasp his. He helped her to her pedes, but she quickly yanked free. Megatron quickly let go. Without a word, he opened the cell doors and stepped to the other side, looking back at her expectantly. Starlight raised her optic ridges, surprised and suspicious at the same time. Megatron merely nodded, inviting.

It was then on shaky pedes Starlight stepped out of her cell. It had been a long time, too long, that she had only known the darkness of her cell, its dull, grey walls, plastered by scratches she had counted over hundreds of times. It was the first time, in a very long time, that her entire world was no longer confined to that tiny, cramped, damp cell.

Megatron guided her throughout the twisting corridors of the fortress. The prisoner's eyes darted in every direction, trying to take in the world beyond her cell. This certainly wasn't Iacon, or like any facility she had been in. The black walls and bright lights screamed with Decepticon engineering. This was no captured stronghold or makeshift garrison.

She was far, far away from the sanctuary of Iacon. It was more than likely, she was in the Pits of Kaon. The Decepticon capital.

It was only a few breems later when they arrived at the medbay. After vorns in such a tight room, her processor had trouble taking in such a broad space. As her optics swept over the medical bay, she immediately assessed her surroundings as her processor triggered protocols to locate any potential threats. It was a learned survival instinct after her time as a prisoner. She made sure that her back was never turned to any Cybertronian, a conditioned survival technique.

Her dim optics soon landed on a _shiny_ red mech. She instantly recognized him. She had only met this mech a few times, when he was sent to weld her wounds after a brutal interrogation. He never stayed for long, and he only did enough repairs to keep her functioning. The Decepticon did what he was told, but no more.

The medic had just finished repairing one of the drones. She back peddled with narrowed optics and sidestepped, so that the warrior could pass. Starlight didn't realize that she'd backed herself up against a wall, her sight focused on the nearby door and the two remaining mechs.

"Knock Out! I need you to examine this femme and tend to her wounds."

Starlight froze when the medic turned his attention on her. The medic, Knock Out, glanced at her curiously, as if surprised to see the prisoner in his medbay, with the looming figure of his lord beside her.

"What appears to be the problem, my liege? The prisoner isn't due for another examination until—"

"I want her examined _now_ ," Megatron barked in a harsh growl.

Starlight and Knock Out flinched at the same time, but for different reasons. With a shaky affirmative, the medic approached her. The femme subconsciously held a hand over her damaged chest panels and slightly turned away from him. She shifted her stance as her optics quickly glanced towards the nearby doors, currently blocked by the imposing figure of Megatron himself. She became aware just in time to see sharp claws reaching for her, and she automatically jerked away with a screech.

Knock Out blinked. He was normally used to her compliant nature, when she was either too weak or too desperate to resist him while locked away in her dingy cell. However, the medic noticed the fresh scrapes on her chest, and quickly put two-and-two together. He made a tisk of distaste.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I only intend to repair you," Knock Out assured.

Starlight kept her fresh wounds hidden from him and when he reached forward to gently take her arm with the intention of leading her to the examination berth at the center of the room, her body began to move without her permission as a deeply ingrained will to live flooded her systems.

With both a terrified and enraged scream, she picked up a nearby scalpel and chucked it end over end towards the stunned medic. He quickly ducked, allowing the tool to sail harmlessly over his head and held his hands up placatingly as he tried to calm her down.

"HEY! Watch it! I'm just trying to help y—" he was stopped mid-stream when a welding tool hit his helm, causing the medic's red optics to flicker for a moment. He snarled and began to rant in anger as a nice scratch adorned the lustrous finish upon his helm. "Oh, I just buffed that!"

.

Starlight ran around to the other side of the berth, picking up a power-drill and another screwdriver on the way, keeping the exam table between herself and the doctor as a makeshift shield. The red mech glared daggers at her. Megatron on the other hand watched on in amusement.

"So it appears her fiery spirit hasn't quelled much," the warlord rumbled.

"I wasn't aware she had one," Knock Out retorted, ducking as Starlight sent another tool soaring towards his helm.

Starlight growled as she held up the power tool threateningly. The young femme was a bold white with black highlights, yet her frame was still battered from abuse and dull from lack of maintenance. She had dry energon caked across her armor, diminishing her vibrant color scheme.

"Touch me... _and you die_ ," she hissed with a glare.

Knock Out snorted and gave her an unimpressed look. "It'll take a lot more than a tiny drill to end me."

The femme glanced down at her weapon of choice and frowned when the gravity of his words hit her. It really was a small power drill. Laughable even. Starlight began to feel cornered as her optics darted from Knock-Out to the Decepticon warlord across the room. She reached behind her and grabbed a few wrenches and re-armed herself. Megatron remained silent and appeared to be fighting back a grin, no doubt highly entertained by her stubborn, fiery defiance.

Starlight glared at Knock Out before swaying on her feet as a bout of dizziness assaulted her. Her empty tanks rumbled and a surge of weakness flooded through her systems. Still distrusting the medic, she used one hand to steady herself by grabbing ahold of the berth in front of her and raised the tool threateningly.

"I mean it. I will _kill_ you…" Her threat did not have the intended, menacing effect as her voice wavered and shook. She fought the protocols that began to initiate stasis lock due to energon deprivation.

"Yes, yes... I'm sure you will," Knock Out replied with an optic roll and a bored, lazy wave of his hand.

Megatron merely cocked an optic ridge at the display. She ignored his curious expression, hissing as Knock Out stepped forward. The medic paused when his lord held up a servo. The Decepticon medic glanced at his leader curiously. Starlight didn't pay the exchange any attention, trying to stay upright on her shaking legs. She felt her stabilizers groan with strain. Without being powered by energon, they were unable to bear her weight.

And sure enough, there was a metallic creak as her knees buckled. As a scream escaped her throat, the floor rushed up to meet her and she crashed with a clang. Suddenly, her hearing seemed muffled and muted. She was just barely able to make out Knock Out's groan.

"Oh, now look what you did! She worked herself up into stasis lock!"

Starlight didn't reply. She couldn't. Her jaw was locked into place and her vocalizer could only make pitiful static-filled sounds. She tried to force her body to move, only to be rewarded with grinding gears and warning messages on her HUD. Fear clenched her spark. She was right, this was all a trap, another ploy.

How many times had her captors purposely starved her, forcing her into stasis lock? Seeing how long she would last? This was just another game. Trapped in her struggles, Starlight almost didn't notice the slow, heavy pedes nearing her. Until the floor trembled underneath her. The prisoner tried to scream, but only a weird, metallic noise slipped from her vocalizer as large, cold servos seized her shoulders.

"Hush, now," Megatron's voice chided against her audio.

He gently twisted her body around onto her back. She felt strong, thick arms slip underneath her, one wrapping around her shoulders and the other underneath her knees. Starlight barely registered her body being lifted into the air like she weighed nothing, and then carefully set on the medical berth.

Another staticky whimper escaped her vocalizer as he stepped away. It only made Starlight confused. She had heard so many gruesome stories about him. They said he had no love in his spark. That he never had any mercy. They claimed that Megatron was nothing but a bloodthirsty monster—a savage, spark-less soul. So why was he being so gentle? Why had he chosen to free her from her prison? It didn't make sense. Her confusion began to lessen as her body slowly shut down in stasis. What truly surprised her was when his optics softened minutely although his expression remained completely stoic. He gently cupped her cheek in his hand, using a thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

One last thought raced through her processor as her optics darkened. She couldn't help but wonder, if the cruel stories about the Decepticon leader were even true at all…

* * *

Megatron stood silently for several minutes, simply observing Starlight whilst she slumbered. Internal questions began to run rampant through his processor. He began to think of things he'd never bothered to consider before. He was so caught up in the war that he never took the time to give any femme a second glance. Something about this femme, captivated him. The longer he stood there, the more he began to truly recognize her beauty. Why had he spared her?

Knock Out was already moving across the repair ward, selecting the appropriate and necessary tools to repair the femme as ordered. He mumbled as he picked up several of the wrenches that she had thrown at him.

 _"_ _Crazy femme... The next time she throws a wrench at me I'm going to…"_

"Knock Out! After our guest is repaired, I want you to clean her up."

"B-but my liege! I—"

"—but _nothing_! I expect you to give her the same devoted attention that you so diligently give to yourself. Then you will bring her to my quarters."

The medic blinked and could not suppress the baffled look, but he did not dare question his lord. With that, the Decepticon leader twisted around and moved towards the exit. However, Megatron did not fail to hear the grumblings under his breath when the Decepticon thought the tyrant was out of earshot. No doubt the vain, upper caste mech did not appreciate being given such a menial task. Knock Out especially despised using _his_ personal polishes and wax on any other.

Now he was being forced to! On a prisoner no less! A neutral! Oh, the blasphemy!

The whole process was unpleasant, the fact she was dead to the world made it easier and more difficult at the same time. At least she wasn't throwing things at him anymore, but her joints had locked into place from stasis, making it difficult to carry her.

After the prisoner was repaired, washed, and polished, Knock Out had grown tired of the manual labor. And Megatron wanted him to take her all the way to his personal chambers?! That kind of stress would wreak hell upon his pistons! Never mind the humiliation he would suffer, carting around the warlord's newest pet for all of the Decepticon army to see.

Knock Out found a solution, and immediately commed the mech he had in mind. Then again. And again. As if the Decepticon's mood couldn't get any worse, now _he_ was ignoring him! The medic was no fool, the spymaster saw and heard _everything_.

He still couldn't be annoyed about the last time Knock Out commed him. He ran out of his best polish! Of course it was an emergency!

Knock Out groaned and sent another message, adding a note that it was per their master's orders. _Finally_ he got a reply. Still, he was less than happy as the silent mech entered the medbay. His cool, dark plating almost blended into the shadows, and that opticless visor stared blankly at him. It gave him the creeps as he felt Soundwave's unseen gaze, boring into his own optics.

The surveillance chief looked expectant, and frankly, annoyed. Likely he did not want to be torn away from his duties for the medic's benefit, no more than Knock Out wanted to use his precious materials on a _prisoner_.

Knock Out pointed at the shiny femme on his medical berth and relayed Megatron's orders, that she was to be delivered promptly to his quarters. The medic did not care to know why, and nor did Soundwave. The mech did not ask, or say anything for that matter, as he plucked up the prisoner, with surprising strength for such a lithe frame. For a moment the medical officer felt a surge of jealousy at how easy it was for the tall mech to even lift her. The Communication's officer left without a word, leaving Knock Out to his own devices.

After Starlight was placed gently upon Megatron's berth. Soundwave left his master's quarters without a backwards glance, locking the door behind him. He sent a digital message to his leader, informing him that the prisoner was secured and then silently returned to his post.


	2. Chapter 2

Starlight released a soft groan as protocols began to activate within her processor to end her recharge cycle. She was surprised to feel no pain. She couldn't remember the last time she onlined without it. All she felt was a small ache throughout her extremities, no doubt a side-effect from being forced into stasis lock. She felt her optical sensors powering up. They flickered for a moment as they attempted to adjust to the gloom. At first, her vision was blurry and hazy, only to make out shadows of a large room. How long had she been recharging?

Then she noticed the unmistakable glow of crimson optics watching her a fair distance from the edge of the berth she was on. Staring at her. Immediately, defensive protocols kicked in and she released a shrill scream. They had taken her back to that horrible room... This mech was going to inflict more pain upon her. That's all they ever did...

Starlight scrambled back on her elbows and heels, hardly noticing she was on a soft, warm material. Especially when her veins turned cold as her back pressed against a solid wall. Another scream erupted from her throat. No, not again, not again, not again! A deep growl drifted across the air, but she didn't heed the words any mind. She had to _get out_!

Searching frantically for something nearby, her optics landed on a datapad sitting harmlessly next her on what appeared to be a desk of some sort. The prisoner snatched it up and reflexively hurled it at the intruder's helm. Only for a clawed servo to strike from the darkness, plucking the device midair with effortless skill. Those fearsome crimson optics narrowed.

Starlight released another shriek as she hastily scrambled away, trying to put a sizable distance between herself and the mystery Decepticon lurking on the other side of the room.

Hugging her knees to her chest she maintained her distance since the Decepticon had yet to reveal himself. Fearing the worst, she picked up the stylis still sitting on the desk where she'd grabbed the datapad and held it up threateningly with a shaking hand and growled, switching from defensive to aggressive and released a snarl.

"Even though I don't have combat experience like the rest of you... _I'm sure_ that I can find a way to use this... _**to end you** ,_" she hissed with plating bristling in warning. Starlight felt her vocalizer going hoarse. No doubt from all the screaming she'd done earlier upon awakening.

It was then a laugh erupted from the Decepticon.

"I am afraid it will take more than _that_ to defeat a Champion of Kaon," a proud drawl declared.

Starlight flinched. She knew that voice…

She trembled with fear when the Decepticon stepped forward into the circle of light, revealing curved, sharp armor and pointed denta. Megatron.

W-what was he doing here? Then suddenly the memory surge washed over her processor. The mech, trying to force open her chest plates, only for the Decepticon leader to cleave his helm right off of his shoulders. Then she was in the medbay, with that medic, then…

Starlight frantically looked around again, but instead of looking for a weapon, she tried to take in her surroundings. She was in a spacious room, barren of any extravagant furniture. She lay across the flexible surface of a berth, twice-no, three times-her size, with its head against the wall. What was this place?

"W-where amm I-I?" Starlight stammered, her vocalizer glitching, as it finished the rebooting cycle from the stasis lock. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Megatron's grin widened. "These are my personal chambers. I did not realize I required an invitation."

The statement was dripping with sarcasm, but it made the femme's energon freeze. _Personal chambers_. She was in the personal chambers of her captor, the leader of the Decepticons. The most wanted and despicable mech on Cybertron.

Suddenly something within her snapped and she began to hatefully fling accusations at him, regardless that he was a known killer and the Decepticon leader. Starlight didn't think. Words began spewing from her mouth before she could truly process them. Had she been of sound mind, she would have remembered that any living spark that had the gall to raise their voice to the infamous Decepticon warlord, were asking for a death wish. The young femme didn't care. Her small, slender frame began to quake with barely contained fear and fury, her golden optics narrowing as her normally melodic voice darkened.

"What is your _true_ motive for keeping me here with you?!" Starlight vented before continuing, her voice beginning to rise in pitch and volume as the stress strained her vocalizer. "The Decepticon you killed...the one who tortured me, _who you_ _ **allowed**_ _to torture me_ , over and over again to the brink of death... was going to force me to be his. How do I know that _you_ are any different?," she spat angrily.

She was not one to forgive so easily. Despite her angry demeanor, she was still hurt...and trusted no one. Her lower lip began to tremble as she kept her chosen 'weapon' poised defensively. She continued with a wavering voice as she choked on sobs, though in her anger she refused to allow her tears to fall. Her quaking frame rattled with greater intensity. "How do I know you won't do the same?" she whispered as a strangled cry finally tore out of her throat. The neutral met those crimson optics, that burned like hell-fire head-on. Their gazes clashed, each with their own, unique intensity.

Megatron allowed her to rant, only staring at her with those inscrutable optics. When she finished, he blinked, but it was far too lazily.

"If I wanted to take you, little fool, I would have already done so," the lord drawled. "And if you care to notice, you have been left untouched."

He used a clawed digit to tap his insignia above his spark, causing Starlight to glance down at her own chest to prove as much. The scratches that had marred her plating were gone, replaced by shiny, flawless polish. Her aggressive, defensive demeanor slowly melted away, yet her optics still retained a great degree of distrust and doubt. Was this a trick? Was he truly being sincere? Or was he lying to her, promising to grant her mercy only to turn on her later, just like all the rest?

"Why am-am I here?" Starlight demanded, still holding the stylus between her and the monster..

"I assumed you would have preferred a more comfortable place to recharge," the Decepticon shrugged.

"I don't believe you," she glowered at him.

The mech hummed thoughtfully and canted his helm and slowly began to close the distance between them.

"Are you afraid?" Megatron leered as he stepped closer.

Starlight was unsure of how to answer. Admitting her fear could prove to be fatal. And yet denying it could prove just as deadly. She hesitantly answered after coming to a decision.

"Yes."

Megatron remained impassive for several minutes and simply studied her. Her answer had been firm. Despite the flicker of fear in her optics, they still retained that old, fiery flame. One of defiance and courage. Neutral or not, this femme had the spark of a warrior. Never before had he seen one of her kind display such bold, tenacious characteristics. _She intrigued him..._

The two occupants in the room remained silent, although it was clear to see that the wheels were rapidly turning in Starlight's head.

"Why did you save me?" she questioned quietly as the hand holding the stylis slowly lowered. Despite the action, she maintained a heavy guard and stared at him in suspicion, as though waiting for him to try something.

"Save you?" Megatron scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

Starlight flinched at the cold tone. "Then you are going to terminate me?"

The sterling tyrant tilted his helm. "Perhaps."

She watched him carefully for any sign that might suggest, his statement regarding her possible termination, held a kernel of truth. At last, she scoffed.

"I don't believe you. You would have done it by now if you truly wanted to be rid of me."

Megatron raised an optic ridge and the beginning of a smirk began tugging at his lips. Before he could utter another word, an unannounced visitor came to the door. He stood and walked towards the entrance to send them away but was beaten to it, when one of his officers triggered the unlocking mechanism for his quarters without permission. The door slid open and a growl escaped his throat when he came face-to-face with Starscream.

"What IS it?!" he snarled, clearly not happy with the Seeker's unwanted intrusion.

"Well, Master… I was informed that the prisoner was repaired. I'm here to escort her back to her cell…" Starscream's crimson optics brightened when he caught sight of Starlight in the room. He raised the shackles high enough for her to see them, and with a sick grin he rattled them. "To _play_ , of course."

 _-Flashback-_

 _Starlight was powerless. She was currently pinned down by two Decepticon mechs, while the new warden, Starscream, approached her with a wicked grin. He released a dark chuckle as he held up the dreaded device that every prisoner learned to fear. Starlight did not yet know what it did but it was probably going to hurt… a lot._

 _She whimpered and tried to crawl away, only for her limbs to refuse to move underneath her captors' cruel grip, reminding her that she couldn't. Starscream made a 'tsk'-'tsk' sound as he stalked ever closer like a predator ready to devour his prey._

" _Now, now...resisting will only make this worse."_

 _It was her second vorn as a prisoner but the first time meeting Megatron's second-in-command. Not yet completely broken, her defiance and fiery spirit still burned true. She spat at him with a sneer._

" _Someday, once I finally get out of here...I'm going to take that thing, and shove it up your exhaust port…"_

 _Her statement of course made Starscream's dark chuckle turn into a full blown laugh, as though he'd heard a joke._

" _My, my...are are a feisty one. No matter. You will soon learn your place!"_

 _He managed to clasp the metal collar around her neck, inserting a chip that connected to her processor that controlled the rest of her neural net. With a sick grin, he pulled out a small remote and waved the two guards holding her down to release her. Her optics burned with fire as she leapt back up to her feet with a growl. She lunged for him with the intention of strangling the Seeker but something stopped her in her tracks._

 _A scream escaped her throat as a sudden, excruciating surge of pain coursed through every circuit within her body. She fell to her knees and then on her side, writhing from the raw electricity that erupted through every single one of her pain receptors. Soon her vocalizer shorted out from her constant screaming and Starscream finally ended her new torture session. He gave her a smug look...one that she wished she could permanently wipe off his faceplate and narrowed her optics with hatred burning in her soul._

" _That fancy inhibitor around your neck, not only incapacitates the wearer as you've just experienced...but it also prevents transformation." His wicked grin grew wider as his crimson optics flashed with a sick delight. "Be a good little prisoner. Misbehave and we will play again…"_

 _-End Flashback-_

Starlight's fear was instantly replaced with rage as the earlier conversation with Megatron flashed through her mind. She should have _known_ that the silver tongued mech was lying to her! He baited her, lured her into a false sense of security! She felt utterly, and hopelessly betrayed...

It was then the femme felt the frozen gears in her body unlock as a hot energon coursed through her veins. As a familiar, ancient instinct reached the surface of her processor, giving her a single command: _run_.

Starlight obeyed. In the flicker of an optic, she lunged off the bed. Part of her knew it was irrational. The only escape was the door, blocked by her warden, Starscream. But she didn't care. She only locked on his hiked up wings and startled expression, talons raised in defense. Only for the image to be replaced by a silver wall.

Without warning, thick, strong arms wrapped around Starlight's middle, pinning her limbs to her sides. She was aware of her chest being pressed against another. Her vents sputtered as suddenly she recalled her torturer, clawing at her chest, all the while pressing his heavy weight against hers. She was right! It was all a trick! Megatron merely wanted her for himself, and was going send her back to that awful place.

With a scream, Starlight writhed, flailing her legs and pulling at her trapped limbs. There was a bark above her, but she ignored it as she pulled her arms free. She raked her claws across Megatron's chest, filling the air with an awful grating noise. When her captor did not flinch, she curled her servos into fists, pounding them against the Champion's broad chest, screaming in rage. She had lost all logic, reduced to a raving mech-animal as fear and hatred fought for dominance. Starscream only snickered in dark amusement from the doorway.

"YOU SICK LYING FRAGGER! _I should have known!_ You are just like the rest! **I HATE YOU!** " she spat in fury, screaming, and snarling. She hurled curses, threats, and harsh accusations at the Decepticon leader.

The mech just held her small frame, unflinching, allowing her to vent her rage. She wasn't damaging him in the slightest. He watched her impassively as her heated, violent motions began to weaken and her vocalizer grew hoarse and staticky. Soon she exhausted herself, nearly going limp in his arms.

Starscream stepped forward with the intention of chaining her. Starlight's optics widened and her assault on the Decepticon lord ceased. She hid herself within the towering mech's hold, as if seeking his protection would save her from the inevitable. A haunted fear grew within her optics and hopelessness flooded her spark as the Seeker stalked closer.

"No… please…" she whimpered, turning her head away to bury her face against Megatron's broad chest, in a pitiful attempt to hide herself. Subconsciously, she leaned further into the warlord's odd embrace. For a second… it almost felt as though he had briefly tightened his hold on her.

"NO! NO!" she shouted, as she felt a slender hand grab her arm, pulling her away. Starscream ripped her away from Megatron's side, cackling in triumph. Starlight's hysterics reached audio shattering highs as she desperately struggled against the mech.

The prisoner flailed, trying to free herself. She didn't expect to succeed, falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Only when she raised herself on her knees, did she find herself trapped between the wall and Megatron's great size. The only escape was towards a sneering Starscream.

She couldn't go back down there… she couldn't…

" _PLEASE!_ Please don't let him take me, I'll do anything! ANYTHING!" she begged, going so far as to grip the Decepticon lord's leg and bow her helm against one of his massive pedes in supplication.

A single optic ridge rose and a helm tilted curiously. Starscream merely shook his head.

"The prisoner is obviously glitched from processor damage," the warden sighed. He stepped forward, pointing his null ray at Starlight's helm. "I suppose it was an inevitable outcome. Would you like me to put her down, my liege?"

The Seeker blinked when a dismissive servo was waved in his direction.

"No."

"Um, what?"

The warlord ignored him as the titan sunk to one knee. He gripped Starlight's shoulders, holding her upright as he leaned down, looking into her optics. It was that inscrutable expression, one that the femme could not hope to read.

" _Anything_?" Megatron echoed in a low rumble, like thunder.

Starlight's eyes flitted up to give Starscream a fleeting glance and then looked up to stare intently into Megatron's optics. Pressing her lip components into a thin, grim line, she answered him with a tone of voice that not even Starscream had heard from her before.

"Yes. I will do whatever it is you ask of me," her voice was soft, and for the first time, filled with a small yet reverent amount of respect. He had after all, pulled her from her prison. Kept her from harm thus far. She supposed whatever he had in mind had to be better than going back to her former prison… besides, he had shown no ill will towards her, unlike his underlings.

Megatron stared a moment more, his narrowed optics like a smoldering pit-bright and almost mesmerizing, but dangerous to the touch. It was like that gaze was trying to scorch through her armor. Boring straight into her soul. Then-

"You will swear fealty to me."

Starlight's audios twitched, not convinced she heard him right. "W-what?"

"You said _anything_ , did you not?"

The neutral merely stared, unable to register the words. She hardly heard Starscream sputter.

"My lord, you cannot be serious," the second-in-command insisted. "This femme is practically a feral. A danger to herself and others-"

"Starscream."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Starscream looked like he was slapped across the face, but did not dare disobey his lord's order. Meanwhile, Megatron's gaze never broke away.

"Well? Do you accept? Or should I order your remains to be sent to the smelting pit?"

Starlight knelt down on one knee. With a hand over her spark, she gave him her answer.

"I swear my fealty to you, my lord," her optics glanced at Starscream and she sent him a silent, smoldering glare before locking her golden optics upon the warlord's own, "And _only_ to **you**."

* * *

 **~59 Million years Later~**

Orion Pax Witwicky slung his battered backpack over his shoulder with a deep frown as his social worker finished processing the paperwork that would send him to yet _another_ foster family. He shoved a hand into the pocket of his ripped jeans, leaving one thumb hanging out, while firmly grasping the faded strap of his pack with the other.

He did not have many personal possessions, having been moved around a lot from one house to the next. Over the years he'd grown to hate the system. He'd been torn away from one family after another since he'd lost his parents at the age of three. There were a few foster parents that had taken him in, but only for the government money. Those people never cared for him. Never loved him. Rather than using that money to buy him clothing and food, they'd used it to buy things for themselves… some even going so far as to use those government funds to buy brand new gaming consoles for their _real_ children.

Orion never knew his birth parents. He couldn't remember what they looked like. He couldn't recall his brief time spent with them. There was no memory. There were no graves.

Orion felt no sorrow. No grief. No heart-felt longing. He felt no pain. He could not mourn someone he did not know. His tear ducts might as well have dried up for he shed not a single drop. The boy came to realize that he could never miss his biological parents. They were strangers to him. They were just a briefly married couple that birthed him, departing the world too soon, leaving him behind to grow and age alone. Orion didn't have a clear concept on family, seeing as how he'd never really had one. He was told that his parents left a will, but he would not see it until he came of age.

His mother and father had gone missing just two weeks after his third birthday. Two days after their disappearance, their modest home had mysteriously burned down, leaving nothing behind but ashes and burnt rubble. He had no other living relatives that could take him in. .

Orion Witwicky had _always_ been on his own. He did not care how some foster families would ignore his existence, or if they made an effort. He merely counted the days until he turned 18. He would be free to go wherever he chose and do whatever his heart desired. He would no longer be confined or chained to a system that sent him to live with strangers who didn't give a damn about him.

Then he would be free. He could do whatever he wanted. No one would tell him what to do, what _not_ to do. He could care for himself, like he'd always done.

Growing up had been tough. More than tough. Even though he'd been very young when he'd first entered the system, he did remember the first family he'd been sent to live with. The adult couple had been nice enough but their birth child hated him since he'd first stepped foot into their home. At that time, Orion was the youngest member of his new, temporary family. Their birth child would steal food from the kitchen, or break things (usually on purpose), or "trip" when they went outside to play.

But it was always Orion's fault. All the child had to do was sob to the heavens and point, and it would be Orion who was punished. In the end, they handed him back to social services, discarding him like a dirty rag that needed to be thrown away. They did not want to deal with a child that was surely plagued by some sort of conduct disorder. Of course it wasn't the case. Just any excuse so the family could get rid of him.

He was sent to another family, then another and another and another. Each one put him in school, but wasn't much of a relief. He never made any friends. At least any that he could keep since he was constantly moving from one school to another. The other kids would cruelly tease him. Their hurtful words stung at first. They never used his real name. They would tell him that the reason his parents disappeared, was because they ran away from him. That they never loved him or wanted him to begin with.

The cold words were followed by a fight. It was them something unexplainable would come over Orion. He didn't know how it would happen. Time would slow to a near standstill and the world disappeared. His muscles would move by their own command, his arms and legs striking and body turning. Once he broke a kid's nose. Once he twisted an arm from its socket. Once he threw a teen twice his size across the room. Then another time, he'd sucker punched a bully so hard in the abdomen, that the kid had to go to the ER for a broken rib.

It was almost like, he _knew_ how to fight. He didn't understand how. He had never stepped foot in a boxing ring or a dojo in his life. It was just there, inside of him. He never initiated a fight. But he always finished it. Pretty soon, those bullies left him alone.

Of course, his foster parents were never happy. The first time, they merely pestered him for answers and scolded him, like they had been there. Like he could have stopped the fist coming for his face, over and over and over, until a powerful fist of his own collided with the jock's face. The second time, he didn't care. The third, he was expelled from school.

He was labeled as a problem child and it became harder and harder for social services to find him a new, temporary family to live with, especially as he got older. There weren't many people that wanted to care for a troubled teen. Most were more interested in caring for the younger children. The more "easily managed ones." After his first twelve years in foster care, he'd lost all hope that he'd ever be adopted into a real family.

When he was younger, around 12-years-old, he ran away a couple of times. Just to see if his host parents truly cared about his well-being. To see if they loved him at all. The police didn't find him until the third day. Those so-called parents never reported him missing and didn't even try to look for him. The cops picked him up at a gas station, where he'd committed petty theft, just because he'd been hungry and needed to eat. His social services case-worker, Laurie, managed to get him out of that mess. Luckily, the owner did not press charges and the cops dismissed the case after Laurie promised them that Orion would never commit the act again. At least until he was seventeen, and he decided to "borrow" his foster brother's Ford Mustang.

The entire car was custom, from the V8 engine to the leather seats to the gold stripe on black plating to the window louvers on the back. The jock had practically worshipped the thing, not even allowing Orion's "greasy paw prints" near it. Said that a street rat wouldn't know how to drive a "real ride." However, apparently he didn't love the car enough when he decided to transfer to an out-of-state college. As freshmans were not allowed to have any vehicles on campus, the young man left it behind with a clear threat that Orion was dead if there was a single scratch on it.

He didn't understand what the problem was. It was usually his foster mother sending their cars to the shop. So, when his foster parents went with a group of friends for a late dinner, Orion helped himself. He quickly learned why his so-called brother was obsessed with the damned thing. It was by far the best ride of his life.

The Mustang accelerated effortlessly, hitting over fifty in before he could count to ten. The muscle car between vehicles with grace and hugged the tightest of turns. Orion remembered the dozens of SUVs and pickup trucks he was dragged into throughout his life, where he was jostled and thrown around the cab, sometimes deafened by the roar of a sputtering engine. He didn't feel a thing as the Mustang glided effortlessly across the road. The fifteen-year-old boy didn't even realize he hit a hundred.

The was when the Jeep Wrangler pulled up beside him, its engine sputtering as it struggled to keep up with the high speed. Orion only laughed, pressing on the accelerator. He cranked up the stereo and blasted his favorite rock music. The young teen slowed down, allowing the other driver to catch up. They drove side by side for a short time, all the while Orion giving them the illusion that they had even the slimmest hope for victory. Then with a devilish grin, the young teen shifted gears and stomped on the gas pedal. He released a wicked laugh as the headlights slipped to his rearview mirror.

Orion's fun was spoiled by a red light. The teenager thought about running it, but with his luck, there would be a cop around the corner. Then he would have to explain why he was driving a car that was not his. And then explain to his foster family why he decided to take the Mustang for a drive. So he reluctantly slowed to a stop.

The Jeep paused behind him, engine still rumbling from the strain. The driver's window rolled down, revealing a pair of mischievous faces. When the driver gestured for Orion to lower his window, he obliged.

"You wanna go again?" the driver challenged, revving his engine.

"Where and when?" Orion asked. When the other pair blinked in confusion, he elaborated in a dismissive tone, "I don't race Jeeps."

The driver looked like he had been slapped in the face; his friend only snickered. The other teen quickly blinked out of it, trying to regain his dignity. To Orion's surprise, he gave a time and location, telling him about how a couple of the local gangs were sponsoring a race. The suggestion of an illegal street race _wasn't_ a surprise, but he found himself leaning in at the driver's next works. The first place winner would receive up to 4K.

The light turned green.

To say he was excited was an understatement as Orion rolled up to the starting line. He initially felt a bit intimidated when he saw what he was up against. There was a sporty 2018 blue Corvette Stingray sitting innocently to his left. From the throaty revving, Orion knew it had a V8 engine. The young teen eyed the driver of said Corvette and knew without a doubt that the owner was no millionaire. The punk appeared to be in his earlier 20's and had on a white tank top with black jeans and appeared to be of Latino descent. He was making out with his girlfriend, prompting a disgusted mutter and an eye roll from Orion at the sight. He leaned out of his window and shouted over to them as he revved his engine.

"YO! GET A ROOM!"

The other guy flipped him off and turned his back on him, ignoring Orion entirely. _How dare he turn his back on him?!_

A hot-headed Orion, moved to step out of his "borrowed" car but didn't even get the door open before another racer drove up to the starting line right beside him, effectively taking up the empty space between Orion and the Corvette. He glared daggers at the offending mystery racer who was hidden behind dark, tinted glass, making it impossible to identify the individual in question. His eyes did brighten however and he released a whistle as his eyes hungrily took in every feature of the brand new, shiny red Aston Martin. He could tell that the owner of the car was obsessive-compulsive if the lustrous finish was anything to go by. The teen could see his own reflection! Whomever owned the Aston Martin was no doubt narcissistic.. It struck Orion as odd that the driver, who so willingly went to such great lengths to maintain the pristine vehicle, would risk damaging it in an illegal street race. Whatever. With a disgusted scoff, the orphan scoffed at the car just before rolling up the window.

The Aston Martin arrived just in time, as Orion glanced up to see a skinny blonde with flawless skin, wearing too high of heels and too short of a skirt. Sure enough, the boy soon heard the catcalls and whistles through his window as the young woman sashayed before the growling sports cars. Hand on her curved hip, she raised a hand in the air.

The crowds on either side cheered and whooped, encouraging the engines to rev and wheels to inch forward. Even Orion was joining in, his heart already beginning to beat faster and faster as adrenaline filled his veins. Beside him, the Aston Martin did not even move.

Without warning, the woman sliced her hand downward. Instantly the half a dozen cars floored it at the same time, just narrowly avoiding the line of people that had pressed in as close as possible. Orion's back pressed against the seat as the world went by in a blur. The cars next to him disappeared. It was then he realized these were no cocky teens in a Jeep. In stunned awe, he watched as car after car passed him.

The teen had always been competitive and hot-tempered. Many times it got him in trouble. This time, he unleashed it fully without fear of consequence. With a loud hollar, he shifted gears and stomped on the gas pedal. The other racers ahead of him, two in particular, had some sort of nitro booster installed, both taking the lead. One was the Aston Martin and other was the Corvette he'd previously envied. With a snarl of frustration, he slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel while simultaneously pulling the emergency break, forcing his own car to skid and easily drift around a sharp turn he'd almost missed in the evening gloom. Had he continued straight, his foster brother's custom Mustang would have crashed through a guard rail and plummeted over a cliff into a small canyon below.

His disadvantage: driving the unknown race course.

His advantage: his _**rage**_. And his fearlessness.

Orion was not afraid to die, something he never understood. Over time he attributed it for the ideology that he had nothing in this world left to lose. He had no family. No real home. No one who would ever miss him. There was nothing to fear, if everything was gone. He was not suicidal by any means. He was could not survive for long without an adrenaline rush. The young man needed these thrills to make him feel alive. Without it… he felt strangely hollow. Like he was missing something or someone. A paradox to be sure. Yet that feeling persisted from deep within his soul...

Orion was brought out of his thoughts as there was another sharp turn, and he barely had time to repeat the process. He cringed when the back of the Mustang clipped the gaurd rail. His brother wasn't going to appreciate that. The driver straightened out, to see he was a few meters behind the Corvette. He pushed his engine to its limits.

The back of the Corvette came closer and closer. Almost, almost... Then the Aston Martin veered.

The Corvette spun out of control when the Aston Martin violently nudged the sport's car's rear bumper.. Orion swerved and spat an enraged curse the cheap trick, veering violently to avoid the other car from crashing into him. Headlights blinded the boy as Corvette spun past, missing his own Mustang by inches, finally coming to a stop when it slammed into tree on the side of the road.

Gritting his teeth, Orion quickly corrected, straightening back out. Then he realized it was only him and the Aston Martin. The driver pushed the gas again, and in seconds he and the Martin were neck-and-neck. He could see in the distance, the finish line approaching. He poured on another burst of speed, pressing the accelerator to the floor, noticing the speedometer needle pushing beyond the top speed. With gritted teeth, he slowly gained ground but screamed in outrage when the Aston Martin tried pulling that same dirty move on him. He hit the brakes but not before the Martin slammed into his driver's side, shattering glass.

Uncaring of the consequences, Orion clenched his teeth and with fury burning in his eyes he turned the wheel and smashed into the perfect finish of the red car. Orion soon noticed a dangerous drop in speed as he heard the tell-tale sound of a tire popping.

"NO! No-no-no-no! COME ON! You slagging DIRTBAG!" Orion snarled after the pristine vehicle as it passed the finish line. The young teen couldn't even reach it. He'd blown a tire and his rims were cracked. His foster brother was going to be pissed….

Oh, well. Shit happened. Worst thing they could do was throw him back to social services, and he had been through that plenty of times. Orion had to admit that even though he was angry and disappointed at losing his first race, he did enjoy it. Immensely. He pulled out his cell phone and called for a tow truck. The Mustang needed a repair shop.

Not long after that, Orion moved out and was sent to a children's shelter until they could secure him a new home.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright, Orion. We are all set. You ready to go?" Laurie asked with a small smile.

She'd been his case worker for the past ten years. She knew him better than all of his foster parents combined. She was the only one who seemed to genuinely care about his well-fare. He used to wish she'd adopt him or take him in herself. Of course it was against government policy. She did try to help him as best she could though. But then again, it was just her job.

Laurie escorted him out of the building and pulled out her car keys. Orion did what he'd done dozens of times in the past. He tossed his backpack in the backseat and took his place in the front on the passenger's side with a heavy sigh. His case worker got into the driver's side and both occupants in the car buckled up with distinctive clicks.. She started up the engine and began driving. They both sat in silence. Laurie gestured towards the radio and gave him a soft smile.

"Pick a station, kiddo."

"No. I'm good, thanks," Orion replied before turning his gaze out the window. He watched the world rush by. Houses and trees and commercial businesses became a streaking blur. He turned his head back around to face Laurie when she began speaking again.

"Orion, this might be your last chance to remain in foster. If this family doesn't work out, you will be placed in an orphanage until you turn 18."

"I know," Orion mumbled bitterly. It wasn't his fault that some families didn't want him. Most of them didn't even want to take the time to try.

"This time might be different. Kate doesn't have any biological children of her own, but she takes in foster kids and raises them by herself."

Orion snorted and had to fight back an eye-roll. How would this be any different? The woman was probably going to be like all of the others he'd lived with. She was probably in this business just for the money. Another five minutes passed in silence as they stopped at a red light. Orion broke the silence.

"So...am I gonna have brothers or sisters at this new place?"

Laurie glanced at him before turning her full attention back on the road.

"The girl is six-years-old and the boy is twelve-years-old."

Orion said nothing and went back to his window watching. He was surprised when they pulled into a nice suburban neighborhood. Laurie parked the car in the driveway of a house that looked as if it were brand new. Modern design, pristine paint, no damage. He hesitantly unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly got out of the car. Not knowing what to expect, Orion remained guarded and was more than surprised when he had a welcoming committee walk outside to greet him.

The woman, his new foster mother he assumed, was smiling. It wasn't fake like all the others he'd seen over the years. The lady looked genuinely _happy_. Behind her came the six-year-old girl, who hid herself shyly behind the woman's leg. The twelve-year-old boy had earbuds in, and was either listening to music or playing a game on his cell phone. The young foster mother, gently elbowed the younger teen with a smile getting his attention. The other boy ripped the earbuds out of his ears, his cheeks immediately heating up when he realized he was being watched by the newcomer.

He gave Orion a sheepish grin and gave him a short, awkward wave in greeting. His new foster mother quickly approached him. She was well-dressed, wearing crisp black trousers and a tight black blazer over a white undershirt. Her black heels were spotless along with her rings and diamond necklace. Orion couldn't help but wonder about her profession. For a single adult, it appeared that she was set for life.

"Hi! You must be Orion!" the woman gushed warmly as she reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Kate. It's a pleasure meeting you." She turned her head to take in the other two youths still standing behind her, "Kids, why don't you introduce yourselves?"

The shy girl poked her head out and quickly blurted her name before ducking back behind the woman's leg, grabbing a fistful of her trousers.

"I'm Selah," the six-year-old smiled shyly up at him.

"Keith," the other teen greeted with a short nod, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Orion immediately noticed that these foster kids were not wearing grungy, hand-me-down, yard-sale bought clothing. In fact, they looked brand new, as did their shoes. The front lawn was meticulously cut and sported lush green grass. A basketball hoop stood near the garage where he could glimpse a brand new vehicle, a glossy black BMW from the look of it. The bright, white cement composing the driveway appeared newly paved. The two kids looked happy themselves. The other teen, Keith, even had his own smartphone.

Orion took a step back to view the whole scene. A beautiful house. Happy kids. A loving mother. An inviting family. It seemed picture perfect.

Too perfect. The more he thought about it… the more worried he became. The orphan knew from experience that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. He'd gotten used to disappointment. He was pulled from his grim, silent musings when his social worker clasped a hand on his shoulder in farewell. She whispered in his ear, low enough that his new foster family wouldn't hear, much to his relief.

"Please. _Behave._ "

Hmph. Like he would have some stuck-up rich woman tell _him_ what to do. Orion sucked air through his teeth. Just ten months. Just ten months and he would be out of this hell. With a pointed look, Laurie climbed back into her car and rolled down the window. She poked her head out to shout out a final farewell before driving away.

"Call me if you need anything! Bye!"

Orion watched his case worker drive away and released a long-suffering sigh, tightening his grip on his backpack as he turned to face the expectant gazes of his new "family." He didn't know what to expect, so the teenager remained guarded. Once they walked into the house, his new foster mother smiled warmly at him.

"Would you like something to eat?" Kate offered.

Orion shook his head in the negative as he continued to inspect his new living environment. Everything was clean. Pristinely free of any clutter or grime. He took two steps before being confronted by Keith. The younger boy gave Kate a smile and then looked at him.

"Come on. I'll show you to your room."

Keith waited expectantly by the stairs and didn't take another step until he was certain that Orion was indeed going to follow him. After reaching the second floor, Keith scratched the back of his head and then gestured towards a door on the left of the hall and used an index finger to point from one room to the next.

"That's your room. Further down is Kate's, mine, and then Selah's. The three of us have to share a bathroom up here. Kate has her own in her master bedroom," the boy paused as he pulled out a folded paper, "here is the list of rules we are expected to follow. If you got any questions, you know where to find me." Keith gave him a nod in farewell and then returned to his room.

Orion rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the '"list." It was the same old garbage as one of his previous homes: 10 pm curfew, expected to make high grades in school, respect for each household member, and to help with chores on assigned days. The teen trudged into his room and was surprised to see it was already furnished with a bed, a desk, desk chair, a nightstand with a reading lamp, and a small entertainment center bare of any movies or games. It did have a TV that was connected to a dish though.

He was relieved to see his bed was already made with fresh sheets and blankets. His bedroom window overlooked the backyard and the boy was surprised when he spotted a large trampoline and a in-built swimming pool. Tossing his backpack down at the foot of his bed, Orion reclined back, deciding it a decent time to watch TV. His heavy eyelids began to flutter. He fought sleep for as long as he could but exhaustion took its toll. HIs eyelids slowly drooped. His fight to remain conscious was a lost cause as the back of his head hit the pillow.

That was when Orion began to dream…

* * *

 _Nightstalker was afraid. Very afraid. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it was bad. There were so many loud noises! Each one had him flattening his sensitive audios with a flinch. It did not help that his guardian, Soundwave, had gone away, leaving the young mechling alone in his quarters. When Nightstalker asked what was going on, Soundwave merely told him to stay quiet, and not to open the door for_ anyone _. His confusion grew when he heard it lock closed._

 _Then the screaming started. Vicious shouts and roars, along with high-pitched wails and screeches. The pounding of heavy pedes sounded outside the door, sometimes so loud and so close that Nightstalker was driven to hide under the berth. His pitch-black plating gave him an advantage, blending him into the shadows. He did inherit silver and white highlights from both of his parents, but his primary color scheme made him a child of the night. It was his sire who had named him. The scary sounds outside in the hall became deafening. W-What was happening?!_

 _The young mechling, roughly the Earth equivalent of a four-year-old, didn't want to be alone. Especially when he heard someone trying to override the lock and break down the door. He remained frozen when large dents appeared in the metal. Soon it was violently kicked down and the youngling's plating began to shiver as a dark chuckle reached his audios._

" _Come out, come out, wherever you are!" came the deadly sing-song voice of the unwelcomed intruder. Nightstalker's crimson optics shut tight with a violent flich when the grown mech upturned furniture, and filled the air with horrible noises. The mech paced back and forth, tearing apart anything in his way, as he thoroughly searched the room._

 _Then Nightstalker screamed when the berth he was hiding under was carelessly tossed aside, leaving him exposed. His plating rattled as he scrambled away and curled in on himself with a whimper. He craned his head up to look into a sneering face. The mech's crimson optics flashed dangerously, his wicked grin widening as the mechling backed himself into a wall._

" _Well, well, well… look who we have here. Megatron's little heir…" the winged mech leered as he flashed dangerous claws. "_ All _alone. Looks like your sparkling-sitter had more important things to deal with. What a pity." The Decepticon slowly advanced with a darkly amused chuckle._

 _Nightstalker felt a small, bold, sliver of defiance emerging from his spark and the little one snarled in warning, his tiny plating bristling like a frightened cyber-cat who was backed into a corner. It wasn't nearly as intimidating as he wanted it to be, as he was pitifully small compared to the massive Decepticon._

" _With you out of the way...nothing will stop Starscream from regaining his former title as rightful heir to Lord Megatron's throne," Ramjet lunged for the little mech with outstretched claws._

 _Nightstalker crawled a few feet away but was violently yanked back towards his attacker when Ramjet roughly snagged his leg. The Decepticon youngling felt pain explode where he'd been visciosly grabbed and heard something "pop" out of place as he was hefted into the air, earning a pained shriek. Then, the brute firmly grasped his scruff-bar and lifted him up by one hand in order to bring the mechling face to face. The youngling hissed and bared little fangs as he began punching and kicking the open air between himself and the mech who wished him harm. His pitiful display earned an amused guffaw from his captor._

 _His violent motions ceased when Ramjet painfully tightened his grip on his scruff-bar, reflexively causing the mechling's small body to curl up into a defensive ball, with tiny pedes and little legs tucked beneath him. It made him look more like a sparkling than a youngling. Nightstalker hated it. It made him feel weak and powerless._

 _Nightstalker's spark instinctively screamed out to the one and only soul who could save him, his fear flooding their bond. He felt an answering pulse and felt emotions not his own. Rage, fear, and desperation._

 _The mechling's fear grew to astronomical levels when another winged mech entered the room with a blade drawn._

" _Ramjet! Stop toying around with him!" the newcomer snapped, fresh energon staining his chassis. "Starscream's diversion won't last much longer! Kill the runt already!"_

" _Dirge, I thought Screamer wanted to offline the little runt himself."_

" _You thought wrong, you imbecile! It won't be long until Megatron finds us out!" The interloper stormed into the room, wings raised high, deadly sharp fangs bared. When Nightstalker's captor did not move, the mech snatched the youngling none-too-gently, ripping him out of the other's grip, ignoring his high-pitched. "Fine, I'll do it myself!"_

 _The youngling shrieked again as he was roughy slammed onto the ground, pain jolting through his entire frame. Lubricant escaped his optics, causing him to look up at the looming figure through a water film. The mech's single servo easily holding him down, the other brandishing his long, wicked blade high in the air. The tip pointed directly towards Nightstalker's exposed neck._

 _A vent hitched in the youngling's throat. What was he doing? That would-_

 _Before Nightstalker could finish his thought, the blade came down, filling his entire vision-_

 _Then a deafening, terrible roar racked his sensitive audios. The blade froze and the mechs above him went unnaturally stiff, optics wide and bright. Nightstalker saw a silver flash behind the mech holding him down, right before long, sharp talons seized the back of his captor's neck. There was the sound of crunching metal, his assaulter letting out an undignified sound as his fragile neck cables were crushed._

 _Then in the flicker of an optic, the mech vanished from sight. There was another high-pitched scream accompanied by a horrible sound of metal-on-metal impact. The room shook with a reverberating thud._

 _Nightstalker flinched at the almighty noise, finials flat against his helm. Shaking uncontrollably, he glanced up, to see a titanic figure. His creator. Megatron._

 _The Lord of Decepticon's crimson optics, burning with power and hatred, were wide and his razor-sharp fangs were bared, glinting in a snarl. His curved, silver armor was bristling to make him look twice his normal size, making him twice as intimidating. Nightstalker was assaulted with a rush of heat of a raging EM field, so powerful it filled the vacuum of the room._

 _The youngling had seen his sire's fearsome temper before. Very few beings were capable of calming down the raging warlord, and one of them was his carrier. Nightstalker wished she was here, right now, but she had gone away to secure another location, leaving him in the care of his creator. However, feeling that burning rage and looking into that terrifying glare, Nightstalker realized Megatron was not angry._

 _He was_ livid.

" _L-Lord Megatron!" one of the youngling's assaulters cried, the one that found him. His attackers were in a tangle of limbs on the floor, pressed up against the wall with the menacing shadow of their lord looming over them. "W-we were just securing your heir, my liege. So that the usurpers-"_

" _SILENCE!"_

 _The thunderous bellow made both winged mechs flinch and had Nightstalker covering his audios. It hurt! However, his raging sire paid him no mind, instead glaring at the shivering mechs on the floor._

" _So, tell me," Megatron growled, low and deep and dangerous, in a tone that even young Nightstalker knew all too well. The one that promised pain and suffering. "Did you believe I would not find out? That you attempted to slay my heir? In my OWN FORTRESS?"_

 _Once again Nightstalker and the mechs flinched at the harsh volume. While the youngling only shuddered, the mechs' shook their helms so fast he thought they would fall off. The rest of their bodies fared no better, plating rattling violently as they trembled underneath their lord's blazing gaze._

" _M-Master... " the mech that had threatened Nightstalker's life dared to speak. He repositioned to all fours, wings flat on his back and his brow pressed against the cold floor. "Please… we beg for forgiveness."_

 _Without further prompt, the second winged mech followed his example, falling into the show of submission only reserved for the Lord Prime. A show, Nightstalker knew, that his creator only detested. Sure enough, Megatron's optics flared even brighter, glowing like the depths of the Pits themselves were behind them. Then he said a single word in a harsh bark._

" _Soundwave."_

 _Nightstalker blinked in confusion, daring to glance up, only to see a silent specter at the doorway. The lithe spymaster watched the scene, his blank, black visor betraying no emotion._

 _Megatron's tone was likewise inscrutable as he growled, "Take Nightstalker far from here."_

 _The third-in-command did not have to be told twice. Without a single word, Soundwave crossed the room over to the shaking Nightstalker, plucking the little thing up in his arms. The youngling was tucked under broad wing-blades, out of sight from his attackers. Nightstalker instinctively snuggled further into his guardian's chestplate. He still felt no safer, still in pain and very much afraid, lubricants leaking freely from his optics now as whimpers escaped his lips. He felt the feathery touch of long, blunt fingers against his back, rubbing gentle circles._

 _Soundwave then completely ignored the fury hanging heavily in the air, all too casually walking out of the room. Nightstalker thought he heard whimpers of younglings drifting from the doorway, and it took him a moment to realize it was his attackers, pleading._

 _Suddenly the protective arms around Nightstalker grew tighter, nearly crushing. His audio was pressed against Soundwave's chest, so he could only hear the steady, rhythmic pulse of his spark. The other servo covered the youngling's free audio, muffling the sounds of the whimpers, which grew louder in volume and pitch. The fingers continued their pattern across his dorsal plating. Comforting, distracting._

 _But Nightstalker could still make out his sire's voice, resuming that deadly, chilling tone, that mechs only heard in their last moments._

" _I do not forgive those that betray me..."_

 _Then came the sounds of muffled screaming, following them as Soundwave continued on in a brisk pace. Then the pleas and shrieks faded away, replaced by eerie silence and the sound of Soundwave's spark. Nightstalker did not see where they were going, as his face was effectively buried in his guardian's chest. He did not know how long Soundwave traveled, but he recognized the throne room once they arrived._

 _It was a massive space, able to accommodate a Decepticon of any size. The walls were a large distance away and the ceiling disappeared into the darkness above. The floor was barren save for rows of great pillars on either side. The room was barren of any furniture save for the single one, telling all that there was only_ one _source of authority._

 _Nightstalker felt safe in here. It was always quiet in here, and nothing bad happened. He would spend joors in this room with his sire, either playing at his pedes or dosing on his lap. Usually there was another Decepticon here, to stand loyally by Megatron's side or to keep a careful optic on a rambunctious Nightstalker._

 _But there was no other soul in the throne room, leaving the youngling alone with Soundwave. The guardian kept his possessive hold, stroking the shaking mechling's helm gently. When Nightstalker did not react, the Decepticon crossed over to the throne. Very careful as not to even touch it, Soundwave placed the youngling on the edge._

 _It reminded Nightstalker just how /small/ he was compared to his creator's titanic size. He looked like an insect sitting in a chair made for a giant, making an almost comical image. While sometimes it made Nightstalker feel silly, Megatron only purred, assuring one day that his heir will fill his seat. But today was not that day, as Soundwave knelt and gently took one of the youngling's ankles._

 _He raised it, carefully, but Nightstalker could not stop the squeak of pain that escaped. Soundwave immediately froze, having his leg hang in the air. Allowing them both to see the ugly, deep dent in his ankle where precious protoform was cruelly squeezed. His pede hung loosely, dislodged from the gears that held it in place._

 _Nightstalker stared. Was it… supposed to go that way? Before he had a chance to ask, Soundwave delicately gripped the sole of his pede and the other took his lower leg. There was a moment of stillness, and before Nightstalker could ask what his guardian was doing, the Decepticon moved._

 _He jerked his arms in opposite direction, having a loud, metallic_ pop _fill the air. Quickly followed by Nightstalker's pained screech. Immediately lubricants spilled from his optics as pain radiated from his ankle, now reattached to his leg. But it hurt! Why did Soundwave do that? What did he do to deserve that?_

 _A whimper escaped Nightstalker. Reacting to the pitiful sound, his guardian scooped him up in his arms. That soft touch returned, but it was too late. The youngling tilted his helm back with a loud wail. Lubricant spilled from optical sensors like a leaky faucet, the mechling unable to hold back his cries of pain. He sobbed his spark out, as the most recent events plagued his processor. He could still feel through the bond with his sire that he was still incredibly angry at the ones who had wished him harm. Nightstalker paused in his cries to vent before his intakes hiccuped. Then the disheartening wails returned until the mechling was left gasping, his tears finally spent. All he could do was lie, moaning in his distress. He wanted his creator, his sire, to hold him… and nothing else._

 _As though his wish were his command, not a minute later, Lord Megatron strolled back into the throne room. The ruler's frame was not as tall as Nightstalker usually saw him. His broad shoulders were slumped and his gaunt was slow, his gaze downcast and his expression inscrutable. However, to Nightstalker, he looked as regal as ever. The shivering youngling dared to peek from out of his guardian's protective hold once the spymaster's grip on him slackened. For just a second, the two of them locked identical crimson optics._

 _Then, two small arms reached out in his direction, silently, imploringly. With an expression his sire could never resist, the mechling made his desire to be held, clearly known. With the beginning of an amused smirk tugging at the warlord's lip components, Megatron obliged his only son's request, easily closing the distance between them with just a few long strides._

 _Deadly, impossibly gentle claws wrapped around Nightstalker, carefully pulling him out of Soundwave's protective grip. The youngling found himself pressed against a massive, broad chest, with thick, strong arms encasing around him. Talons wrapped around his helm, protectively and possessively, a single thumb stroking his audio fin. The little one purred in contentment and leaned into his sire's soft touch._

" _You are mine, Nightstalker," Megatron rumbled. "No one will ever take you away from me._ _ **No one**_ _."_

 _It was then the sire held his creation for a very long time. The little mechling soon falling into a deep recharge while snuggled safely in his arms._

 _This was his family. This was his home. Nightstalker knew that here is where he was safest. And it was here that he belonged…_

* * *

Orion awoke with a short gasp as the foggy remnants of his dream slowly began to fade. The images and feelings were both familiar yet alien to him. He tried to hold on to what he'd seen and felt but all of it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. It frustrated him...and the inability to remember details left him feeling strangely hollow. For Orion had been sure that for just a second...his soul had felt what has always been a foreign concept: _home_.


	4. Chapter 4

Knock Out stormed off of the lift, entering the dark belly of the _Nemesis_. Solid black walls surrounded him, only illuminated by the faint overhead lighting and the glow of monitoring stations. The bleak interior design was not the mech's taste, but Decepticon engineering was built to be practical and efficient and nothing more. And he supposed he shouldn't expect luxurious flourishing, considering the great warship was constructed from the chassis of one the mightiest Cybertronians in history.

The medic ignored the bustle of Vehicons unloading and stocking the scores of energon collected from the mine, alone. Instead, he effortlessly slipped through the chaos, eager not to be noticed. Not only was it likely one would report his disappearance to Lord Megatron, but Knock Out would not stand being seen in such a horrid state.

He could not understand how a planet with such a lively culture and beautiful views, could be so _filthy._ His once pristine, shiny finish was covered with mud, that had dried to a cakey layer over his rims. His grill was clogged with the guts and exoskeletons of itty bitty organic insects. Oh, no, that was not the worst of it. No, it was the fact that his plating was _ruined._ Ugly, misshapen scratches marred the Decepticon's hide, scraping off paint and metal like. His door-arm and side were heavily dented, enough that it muddled his equilibrium, causing a slight limp.

Knock Out knew a groundbridge was far more practical-and more salvageable to his valuable paint job-but far more costly. If Megatron ever found out his medic was using precious energon to go on another _excursion,_ well, the Decepticons wouldn't have a medic. So, the mech begrudgingly took the long way home.

It filled the mech with frustration and humiliation. Tonight was supposed to go over quickly, another victory to add to his ever growing winning streak. A quick drive, a quick race, and a quick decontamination shower. After cycles and cycles of being cooped up with unpleasant company, it was supposed to be a relief. He was built to be a speedster, after all.

And what better way to release pent up energy than _friendly_ competition. Until that abominable Corvette happened. It was flashy and fast, for sure, but as always, the driver had no _skill_. To prove as such, the fleshling had slammed into him in a desperate, petty attempt to win the race. When that had failed, the adolescent proceeded to throw a temper tantrum.

 _"You **slagging** DIRTBAG!"_

Hmm, curious. Knock Out replayed the recording, trying to make certain he heard that right. A Cybertronian profanity that humans were not generally privy to. He wondered if it was worth investigating. Lord Megatron _did_ order his subordinates to report and follow _any_ and _all_ leads to the Autobots. However, Knock Out doubted a human's slur counted.

For such a small, simple species, the organic race had too many languages to count, and even more dialects. His translation program could only do so much. It could have been something as simple as a glitch in his programming. In addition, the speedster would have to report to his lord that he was on a jaunt he was not supposed to have gone on, so he was _not_ mingling among humans just to race against their primitive technology. Nope.

Knock Out was close to his med bay. Oh, his processor was glitching with images of a nice, warm wash, followed by a complete new detail and polishing. Detailing was so much easier when Breakdown was around, but he could make do with what he had-

"And where have _you_ been?"

Scrap. And he was so close, too.

"Just out getting some fresh air, Starscream," Knock Out replied casually, dismissively. It was a human phrase, so not surprising, the second-in-command did not humor it.

The Air Commander blocked his path to his laboratory. He stood tall on his too-high thrusters, his wings raised wide and high, and his long, sharp talons were curled behind his back. Starscream's crimson gaze was predatory, like a scavenger searching for a meal.

"Oh?" It not even a single syllable, just an ex-vent, yet it spoke volumes. Like the gaze of a greedy vulture, the Seeker's optics roamed over Knock Out's disheveled visage. "And when you went 'out,' did you fall from the ship?"

"Erm, no. You see-"

"You have been racing amongst the humans again, haven't you?"

Knock Out deflated, realizing he had been caught red-handed, as the humans say. "I am an automobile _enthusiast_. I like to pride myself with having adequate knowledge of all manner of vehicles, in the benefit of the Decepticon cause, of course, as-"

"Lord Megatron has requested an audience with you on bridge."

Knock Out froze. "Over-"

"Yes."

Oh, he was _so_ fragged. It was never a good thing if Megatron personally summoned a mech. _Never_.

Starscream must have seen his panicked look, and relished it. He leaned in close, purring, "I would hurry, if I were you."

It was the first time in Knock Out's life he didn't want to hurry. But he was wiser than to keep his vengeful lord waiting. He quickly rounded on his heels, retreating from Starscream's amused snickers, and made his way to the bridge. The Decepticon believed he hurried, but it seemed eternity had passed before he finally found himself before the sealed doors of the command center.

Summoning whatever was left of his courage, he stepped through the doors. As always, the bridge of the _Nemesis_ was alive with activity. Screens covered the entire walls, with Cybertronian text scrolling across them. Dozens of drones took up the stations, typing away to forward orders or merely monitoring a strand of data. The front of the bridge was taken up by a gigantic screen. Usually it projected a view of whatever lay before the warship, but now it was splinted with multiple feeds, most of them showing the mining operation below.

In the center of the bridge was a single console, used to navigate the gigantic vessel and relay commands to every deck. Instead of a lowly drone, posted at its head was a tall, intimidating figure. Silver armor curled in sharp spikes, with long, deadly talons curled behind a broad back. Knock Out dared to approach the warframe, promptly dropping to a knee and laying a clawed servo over his spark.

"You summoned me, my lord?" he hummed, bowing his head humbly.

"There was an incursion by the Autobots today," Lord Megatron replied with his own statement, his deep, gravelly tone dangerously calm. "Several of my soldiers were wounded. Yet _you_ were nowhere to be found."

Scrap. Couldn't the Autobots wait until he at least returned from his unsanctioned field trip? Knock Out desperately tried to come up with an excuse, but he wasn't as clever as Starscream.

"How… unfortunate," he decided on, carefully choosing his words.

"Yes, considering two of them succumbed to their injuries. Now I will have to waste valuable time and resources recycling their chassis into functioning frames."

Finally Megatron turned around, slowly. This audience would be on _his_ time, not Knock Out's. The medic suppressed a shudder as those burning, crimson optics stared down at him. Scarred lips pulled back, revealing rows of fanged denta.

"Were my orders not clear, Knock Out?"

"No, my lord," he instantly replied, not daring to meet his leader's menacing glare.

"Then tell me why you were mingling with _humans,_ instead of reporting to your post."

The words came out as a rumbling growl, the whisper of thunder before the coming storm. Megatron's hatred of humans was no secret. Not after he had spent a century in their greedy grasp, being torn apart for experiments and spare parts. So Knock Out did not dare say that the little fleshies were not _that_ bad, instead taking a note from Starscream.

"It's a known fact that Autobots are fond of humans," Knock Out explained. "I was merely out on patrol, my lord, in search of any that may be hiding among them-"

He started when suddenly there was a deafening _clang_ of metal, followed by several startled yelps of nearby drones. The Decepticon dared to glance up to see Megatron's curled servo against the console, leaving a sizeable dent that would not be easy to fix. His gaze traveled up higher, only to meet blazing, furious optics, wide and bright.

"You are my _medic_!" Megatron thundered. "Your place is on the ship! To treat my troops so we may keep any advantage over the Autobots. Should our numbers, our firepower, falter, my enemy could turn the scales of war into their favor!"

Knock Out knew it was wise to keep his intake shut. However, he was not a wise mech. "The Autobots are weak, my lord. They have kept their helms in their little hole since the battle in, er, Eject? No, Egypt!"

"Yet you waste my time instead of bringing me their _heads_!"

The lowly Decepticon flinched at the violent bellow, but did not dare rise or move. He was running out of things to say. He wished Megatron's femme pet was still around. She was the only one that could calm his violent tantrums, make him see reason. She made everyone's lives easier. But then those hypocritical Autobots found the location of Megatron's palace, and proceeded to blow it to scrap. Now everyone's lives were miserable.

The Decepticon medic would never forget that horrible day. If only he'd been able to reach her in time…

 _The crimson mech flinched when small bits of debris struck his plating from the detonation of a nearby grenade. The deafening_ booms _of explosions, and the screams of the injured and dying filled the smoldering air, making it difficult to even ventilate. He ducked down behind the cover of a fallen pillar as stray energon bolts zipped past his helm._

 _Just meters away from where he was crouched, Starlight was fighting fiercely against three Autobot soldiers. She was doing well, holding them off on her own. Knockout did as his lord requested and kept a careful optic on her as he performed field triage on wounded Decepticon troops. There were only some he could save. Many of the wounded were too badly damaged to be repaired in time. Others were much more fortunate._

 _"Alright, soldier. You are battle-ready. Now, GO!" Knockout gestured strictly in the direction of where enemy troops were slowly trickling in._

 _The moderately repaired Vehicon leaped to his pedes, blaster in servo, limping to the frontlines. He was patched up well enough for a second round with the invaders. Knock Out's crimson optics glanced around at the carnage, wrought by the ugly, bloody, destruction of civil war. His helm snapped up seconds later when he heard the bellowing rally cry of Zeta Prime, leader of the Autobots. His cruel and fierce reputation rivaled that of Megatron himself._

 _Knock Out's optics widened when he saw Starlight turn to face the Prime. There were two Decepticon guards that joined her side. Knock Out's vocalizer froze up as paralyzing fear seized his spark. Inside, he was screaming. He stood up, leaving his current patient's side and ran towards the deadly scene with electrostaff twirling. Starlight brought up her weapon to parry Zeta's attack after he easily dispatched the two Decepticons at her side, but by then, it was already too late…._

Knock Out was violently slapped back to reality when a large servo collided with his helm. He let out a pained yell as he was sent skidding across the ground, landing in a heap of twisted limbs.

" **PAY ATTENTION WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU**!" Megatron bellowed with an enraged snarl. "You may as well explain to me how a racing excursion leads to _this_!"

The warlord gestured to Knock Out's scratched, dented, mangled frame, which the Decepticon would try to hide if he wasn't paralyzed by fear. It took several attempts to get his vocalizer to work.

"I-it's nothing serious, my lord, just a simple scratch," he dismissed, even though it was anything but simple. "Humans just tend to get _overzealous_."

Megatron's optics brightened. "You mean to tell me _insects_ did this to you?"

"Well, rather, an automobile, with a flashy finish, if I do say myself-" He flinched as his master let out a deep growl. Knock Out released a nervous chuckle. "If it's any consolation, I did teach the fleshling a rather important lesson of humility and took the liberties to win the race."

He spoke rapidly, faster than he could, a fatal flaw for his frame type, as he realized too late he had said the wrong thing.

"So, you have _time_ to gallivant amongst those human pests, yet you fail to complete **_your assigned duties?!_** In six cycles, you have not handed me a single Autobot!"

Knock Out flinched back, armor clamping down defensively to make himself as small as possible. This time he kept his intake shut, keeping his helm bowed low. He had learned the best way to survive Megatron's wrath was to stay out of his line of sight. Something, Starscream had yet to discover. He half-hoped the second-in-command would walk in at that moment, just so the Decepticon leader's attention would target something else. However, it was someone quite unexpected that was his savior.

"Lord Megatron, if I may offer a logical solution?"

Instantly Knock Out's plating crawled as slow, heavy pedes approached. Oh, as if things couldn't get any worse. Nothing good happened when _Shockwave_ volunteered to be _helpful_.

The medic cautiously glanced over his shoulder at the hulking mech. Although Shockwave was not a gladiator-in fact, spending most of his life cycle in luxury-he was an intimidating heavy frame. Almost as tall as Megatron, his deep purple armor was almost black, and thick around his spark chamber. A gigantic barrel of a cannon made up his right arm, with a cable attaching the weapon to his spinal strut. But the most disturbing of all was that single, unblinking optic, _always_ analyzing.

Knock Out _hated_ when that optic looked at him, like Shockwave was trying to figure out the best way to cut him open. He wouldn't be surprised. But thankfully, the gaze was settled on Megatron, who looked back in interest.

"And what would that be, Shockwave?" Megatron demanded, his voice lowering an octave but still lined with danger.

"I understand military operations are out of my domain, but if I understand our current situation, the Autobots have remained in disarray since the loss of their leader," Shockwave explained matter-of-factly. "They are unorganized, and according to our surveillance, they have consistently failed to rally. The only time they appear to do so, is to raid our energon mines."

"Mind telling us something we don't know?" Knock Out drawled under his breath. Only when he was answered with two seething glares. However, Megatron was in no mood to be reminded of information he already knew.

"Your point, Shockwave?" the Decepticon demanded.

"It is only a logical conclusion the Autobots are dangerously low on energon reserves, and is the reason why they have committed such high-risk missions for little reward."

"So, that's your solution? Buff up the security around the mines?" Knock Out huffed.

"Quite the opposite, in fact," Shockwave replied, making his audience blink. "We lower the security, and we expose a large source of energon, as bait, of course."

It was then the chief engineer's words clicked into place. Knock Out blinked in surprise, while a wide, cruel smile spread across Megatron's faceplates.

"And should any Autobots take this bait?" the warlord asked.

"I will leave the details to my fellow lieutenant, Starscream."

"Very well. I expect to receive updates on Starscream's progress," Megatron's bristling armor slowly began to flatten, his demeanor shifting into one on the brink of being calm.

"It will be done, my lord." Shockwave marginally bowed his helm in respect before turning around and heading for the exit.

Knock Out dared himself to marginally relax as some of the fearsome titan's former rage began to diminish. He was a fool to think he was out of the woods as the humans would say. His spark leapt to his throat when Megatron snapped a glare in his direction the moment the bridge door swished closed behind Shockwave.

"YOU on the other hand…" Megatron trailed off as he took a menacing step towards the cowering, crimson mech. The vain Decepticon's optics widened in horror as he saw deadly talons raise into the air.

"No, no, please, my lord!" Knock Out begged, backpedaling on his pedes and servos, but it was no use. "Not the finish! Anything but the finish!"

"Rest assured, your punishment will simply be _superficial_."

The awful sounds of screeching metal filled the bridge of the _Nemesis_ , swallowed up by Knock Out's wails of pain and dismay.

* * *

"HEY! TOUGH GUY! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

Orion kept his focus on the nearby wall, not bothering to pay the drunken fool any attention. Apparently the newest addition to the main holding cell was an angry, violent drunk. He'd already attempted to pick a fight with some of the other detainees.

It was a sorry group of criminals, from the drunks to pickpockets to assaulters. All of them had picked their own little spot in the too cramped cell, shoulders slumped and heads low like a dog. No doubt they were cursing their rotten luck, just like Orion.

That cop just _had_ to turn around the corner, just when Orion popped the door of that flashy BMW convertible. It wasn't like he was planning to do anything with it. He was just going to go for a spin around the block, and park it where he found it, still in one piece. He doubted the owner would care, as the man had vanished into the five star restaurant with his girlfriend that was half his age. But of course, Officer Stick-Up had it in for him.

Now he was stuck with Mr. Drunken-Breath.

"HEY! ARE YOU DEAF?!" the drunk screamed, storming across the cell. The other prisoners quickly cleared a path and returned to their pitiful positions by the corner.

"Yes," Orion mumbled, arms crossed over his chest, not turning attention to the man as he loomed over him. He twisted his face as the harsh smell of liquor hit him like a smack to the face, but said nothing.

"You think you're special or somethin'?"

"Yes. I'm not a dumbass like you."

"How do you figure? You're locked up in the slammer just like me," The drunk man scoffed with a sneer.

"At least I'm not the sorry, idiotic LOSER, who was arrested for being drunk off my ass."

The drunk's nostrils flared like a bull's, eyes going wide with rage. "You son of a-"

Without warning, the delinquent's curled up fist collided with Orion's temple. Stars exploded before Orion's eyes, the blow to his head sending him to the floor.

The young teen couldn't stop the hot, bubbling rage of severe annoyance from rising to the surface. A feral snarl crossed his face, glaring at the drunk sneering down at him. With a growl, he lunged to his feet. The boy grabbed the front of the man's shirt and slammed his head, face-first, against the thick, iron cell bars.

The drunk slid to the floor with a groan, out like a light. Orion smirked, satisfied of his accomplishment. He felt a great sense of pride when everyone moved out of his way as he returned to his original place on the hard metal bench. He pulled his hood down over his head, obscuring part of his face. He crossed his arms and rested his chin on his chest. Closing his eyes to rest, the teen was confident that no one else would dare to disturb him.

His short rest was not to last as he recognized the angry shouts of a very familiar woman echoing down the hall from the main lobby of the police station.

 _Oh no..._

"You've put a _juvenile_ with convicted felons, without _first_ informing his guardian," Laurie ranted, her high heels clicking down the hall at a brisk pace.

"He didn't have an ID on him-" the voice of a nervous police officer replied, only to be cut off.

"So you caged him up like one of those animals?!"

Orion glanced up, peering from under his hood as he saw his case worker storm into the holding area. She was dressed in a stunning white blouse and a black skirt, looking professional and furious at the same time. A scowl was over her face, ignoring the existence of the man next to her. Oh, this did not bode well. The teenager quickly ducked his head, but it was too late.

"Orion!" Laurie barked, harsh enough that the poor boy jumped in his seat.

" _Uh-oh! Someone's in trou-bull!"_ One of the inmates taunted in a sing-song voice from one of the corners.

Light snickers and chuckles reached his ears, making his face redden and he sunk into the bench. It felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was embarrassing and made him feel like a small child in front of a bunch of strangers, when a moment ago he had though he had thought he proved his wished he could just disappear.

Laurie gave a pointed look to the guard, and there was a heavy clanking sound as the door was pulled open. Like there wasn't up to a dozen crooks in the room, the woman marched over to him and jerked his hood back.

Orion managed an awkward smile. "Hey, Laurie, what's up?"

" _What_ do you think you're doing?" Her face softened for a moment as she briefly checked him over for any hidden injuries, demanding, "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," the teenager stammered, and that seemed to satisfy the woman. Her glare returned.

"What did I say about behaving yourself?!"

"I did! I've been good, I've swear! I haven't start any fights-"

Orion pointedly ignored the snoring drunk on the floor and thankfully Laurie didn't even notice the man.

"Then explain to me how you got here!"

"I was just looking at this car! Then the cop just walks up to me and arrests me!"

When Laurie just cocked an eyebrow at him, "From what the officers told me, you did more than _look_."

"Defacing private property with intent to steal, to be precise," the guard by the door grumbled, but clipped his mouth shut when Laurie glared at him over her shoulder. Meanwhile, Orion only wailed.

"Are you serious?! That's a _thing_?"

His case worker turned her glare back at him. "It is, and you're lucky it's just a misdemeanor. If it had been grand theft, you would have to stand up to a judge. But with something like this, your bail is already posted. Kate is working it out as we speak."

Orion cringed. "...Kate's involved?"

"As she's your guardian, yes. And she's waiting for you outside."

Orion wasn't sure how he felt in that moment. It was the first time that any foster parent bailed him out of a mess he'd gotten himself into. Usually they would either leave him to the mercy of law enforcement, trusting he'd learn his lesson the hard way, or would simply label him a problem child and throw him back into the foster system.

"You are coming with me, right now. Let's go," she ordered sternly and waited for him to obey.

Still speechless, he didn't budge as his head began spinning with questions. Why would his new foster mother pay for his bail? Why did she come in person? Was it just to see him off so Laurie could take him back? Was there some mysterious ulterior motive for why she was being so generous? He was snapped out of his musings when the other prisoners began to heckle him.

 _"Better do what mommy tells you!_ " a prisoner sniggered from the back.

 _"Not such a tough guy, after all, eh?!"_

 _"Is mama gonna kiss that owie on your head?"_

Orion gritted his teeth with a low growl. He instinctively began to turn back, only for Laurie to snatch his arm in a tight grip and yank him forward. The sounds of their laughter faded behind them as Laurie half-dragged him to the front lobby where Kate was waiting.

The foster child expected a look of fury or even disdain, as so many of his so-called "guardian" showed when they found out they were given a juvenile delinquent. Instead, the woman showed a completely different expression.

Her lips were pulled in a frown and her eyes gleamed… with concern? The woman paced restlessly, her hair disheveled like either she didn't have time to fix it or she had been running her hands through it. It wasn't until Orion and Laurie drew near that the foster parent noticed him. Immediately her face lit up and she let out a relieved gasp.

"Oh, thank God!"

Without warning, Kate lunged forward. Adrenaline from his fight still in his veins, Orion braced, only to stiffen as the woman wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I was so worried!"

Orion was even more confused. She was… worried about him? For getting arrested? Wasn't she supposed to be mad? He fumbled for words as he rubbed the back of his neck feeling more than awkward.

"Aren't... you mad?"

"I'm _furious_ with you!" Suddenly Kate pulled back, tightening her grip on his shoulders, but not painfully. "I was in the middle of a meeting when I got a call from the _sheriff_ that you had been charged. Trying to steal a car? What were you thinking?!"

"I…" Orion opened his mouth, but feeling Laurie's eyes boring into him, he realized the same excuse wasn't going to work twice. "I wasn't going to hurt anybody…"

"Well, you did. You scared me and Laurie to death. Keith and Selah are worried sick."

Orion only blinked. "...Why?"

Kate scoffed as if he asked a ridiculous question. "Because you're part of our family now, Orion."

The teenager only stared. He could only count the number of times someone said that with a single hand, and it was usually said with a hint of a frustrated snarl. Yet Kate had spoken so _sincere_. The boy felt something in his chest twist uncomfortably, and he did not know why.

"So… you're not going to kick me out?"

Kate's eyes widened as if he'd grown two heads. "Of course not. You're coming home."

She said like it like was a simple concept, yet to Orion it was a foreign concept. He never had a home. But he couldn't find words to say as such, instead lowering his gaze to his feet. "Umm...uh...thanks...you know...for getting me out of jail."

His guardian smiled warmly and let out a sigh. "Well, _don't_ make it a habit. Once we get home, you're grounded. For life."

Orion frowned with a growing look of horror. "But-"

"No buts. Car, now. It's late enough as it is."

With that, Kate whirled around, not waiting for a reply. Orion looked to Laurie for help, only for the case worker to reply with a stern look. Letting out a defeated sigh, the teenager trudged after his foster mother.

"Stay out of trouble, kiddo," Laurie called after Orion as she watched him exit the station. "IF you can manage it."

As they were walking towards where Kate's car was parked, Orion's thoughts were jostled by a whirr of a siren. He turned towards the source of the noise, only to be greeted by a sleek, bulky black and white police car, just about two car lengths away. A Mustang?

The car was parked beside the curb, looking no different than the other cruisers next to it. Yet Orion found his skin crawl at the sight. He shook his head. It was merely nerves, after the excitement of the day. He turned away, only to skim over the words emblazoned on the side. something incredibly odd.

 _"To Punish and Enslave..."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note : In response to a review concerning Barricade's 'demise'...Barricade made it all the way through the 5th Michael Bay Transformers movie "The Last Knight". This story is taking place between the 2nd movie, "Revenge of the Fallen, and just before the 3rd movie, "Dark of the Moon."**

* * *

Bumblebee was venting heavily. His frame rattled uneasily, his engines letting out an odd, low noise. His chassis felt heavy and cold. Warning messages flashed across his vision, alerting him that his energon reserves were low due to ruptured fuel-lines.

It was a trap. It was a Decepticon trap. How could he not have realized?

The scout had found the energon mine, filled with the cerulean crystals. There were even entire caverns full of refined cubes, waiting for transport. And there was only less than a handful of Vehicons to guard it all. He dispatched the first two Vehicons easily and quietly, and no one was there to stop him when he neared the piles of perfectly stacked energon. He had been so deficient, so _hungry_ , he eyed the fuel source with gluttonous greed. Bumblebee had thought he finally had a stroke of luck.

As a scout, he knew he should have properly surveilled the area, knowing that the Decepticon energon mines were _always_ under heavy guard. Already suffering from energon deprivation, the young bot threw caution to the wind, intending to quickly refuel and then contact the other Autobots to let them know about his discovery. It was a good thing they never got his message or else they'd be just as slagged as he was when the Eradicons attacked.

They must have been hiding in the upper reaches of the caverns, out of Bumblebee's sight. Their EM fields must have been cloaked, or masked by the energon signal covering the scout's systems. Or the youngling was too caught up in his victory to notice. Crimson, superheated energon rained down on him, striking his armor and wires.

Outnumbered and outmatched, Bumblebee had no choice but to retreat. Especially when Shockwave and Starscream arrived. The Autobot scout hated to compliment the enemy...but he knew that their clever little trap, was strategically brilliant.

He had barely gotten out with his life. Now he was on the run. It was difficult to hide when he leaked a clear energon trail and at the rate he was going, he would burn through his reserves before he made it back to the Autobots' last known rendezvous point. There was a human city near the mine, full of thousands of humans and cars and structures to hide in. Bumblebee just had to lay low for awhile, out of sight, until the Decepticons grew bored in the hunt and moved on.

But the Autobot had nearly gotten in several accidents on the highway. His energon was redirecting to primary functions, trying to keep his chassis functioning, making it difficult to steer. It did not help the world began to mix together in a buzz of color and noise and lights. Right as he made it off of the exit ramp, the first warning flashed in his HUD that stasis lock wasn't far off. He knew he could make it deeper into the city before that happened. It was the third stasis lock warning he had to worry about.

He sent an encoded S.O.S message on a scrambled frequency that the Decepticons would not be able to decipher or even intercept and then powered down all of his unnecessary systems as he rolled into a nice, suburban neighborhood. He parked beside the curb and performed one last sensory sweep before starting protocols that would shut him down into emergency repair stasis. His internal systems would be able to stop the worst of the energon leaks but he would have to remain in a very deep recharge for at least three hours for that to happen. In the meantime, he was going to be left in a very vulnerable state. If a Decepticon found him while he was in the midst of emergency repair stasis, he was as good as dead. With his last conscious thought, Bumblebee sent up a prayer to Primus, asking for his protection.

He didn't just need an answered prayer...he needed a miracle.

* * *

Orion was _bored_. He had been confined in his room for an entire week, cut off from the outside world. No TV, no video games, no phone, no internet. The Earth could be ending, and he would never know.

The teen tried to be good since Kate had bailed him out of jail…He had abided the rules, and he had gone the extra step and helped around the house instead of brooding. From washing the dishes to vacuuming the floor to taking Keith to his soccer practices and Selah to her dance recitals. It seemed to please Kate, but she still held him on a tight leash, analyzing his every move, every intention. After an entire week, he was choking on it. He had to GET OUT.

His curfew had been shortened, and he wasn't allowed to leave the house without an excuse. And it wasn't like he had any friends he could go meet. He had kept his head down during the month at school Kate had dropped him in, so he hadn't met anyone he could trust. Well, he didn't trust anyone, anyway.

So Orion waited until everyone was asleep to make his move. He popped open the window in his room, cringing as its hinges let out a high-pitched squeal of protest. Apparently it had not been opened in a very long time. Slowly, carefully, the teenager pushed the window open, having a draft of cool air pour into the door. Every time the window would let out a creaking cry, he would freeze and listen for a solid minute, waiting for Kate or Keith or Selah to storm into his room and catch him in the act. However, it never happened.

Orion climbed onto the lip of the slanted roof, zipping his jacket to his chin as he felt a slight chill in the air. When he made it to the edge of the roof, he glanced down to assure himself that the drainpipe was right below him and then swung his legs over the edge. He slowly lowered himself down until he could feel the pipe between his feet. Hanging by his hands, he reached one arm down and did not let go of the roof until he had a firm grip on the pipe. He slowly shimmied his way down and sighed in relief when his feet touched the ground.

He stood still for a long minute, waiting for Kate's angry screech, blaring alarms, or a beam of light to shine down on him. Nothing happened. There was no sound, no shout, only the whisper of the wind and the distant song of cicadas. Orion realized he shouldn't ligner anymore than he had to.

He would walk around the block, just to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. Time to himself, without curious eyes boring into him or his so-called mother breathing down his neck. He couldn't get in trouble for that, right? Besides, he wasn't going to be gone long. He planned to return within the next couple of hours.

The teenager took a light jog down the sidewalk, his breath turning into mist in the cool air. Freedom never felt so good! His jog quickly turned into a sprint as an invigorating burst of energy coursed throughout his body. Once he was far enough away from his foster house, he let loose a victorious laugh. He kept running until his lungs began to burn and slowed to a brisk walk. Orion didn't really have a particular destination in mind. He did recently find out that their suburban neighborhood were supporters and members of neighborhood watch.

The teen wasn't worried though. It was in the middle of the night and from the dark houses around him, everyone was asleep. If there was someone awake just to call on late-night joggers, then they really didn't have a life. It was an upper middle class neighborhood, with two-story identical houses lining the road on either side. Each yard was trimmed and perfect, with flowers and the trees no higher than the home association allowed.

Despite every house had a garage, cars lingered in driveways and on the street, from hand-me-down Fords to shiny Mercedez-Benz to a bright yellow Camaro. Orion blinked and paused. He crept closer, intrigued by the sporty model. His eyes widened when he noticed that the car was covered in a multitude of various dents and scratches. He couldn't help but wonder if the Camaro's owner attempted to compete in a demolition derby. Who would be so careless and negligent and allow such a sweet ride to suffer such abuse?

Hmph. The owner didn't deserve this car. With a sly grin, Orion crept over to the driver's side door and stuffed his hand in his pocket. He cursed beneath his breath, when he withdrew his hand to find lint within his grasp. He shut his eyes and mentally kicked himself. He left his lockpick back at the house! That was just his luck.

Orion nervously glanced around to assure himself that the coast was clear and decided to do something he normally didn't do. He reached down, grasped the door handle, and was shocked when the door swung open. The car was left _unlocked_?!

The boy just stared, shocked. Did this guy just not _care_? This car had to be worth-

Red and blue lights flashed.

Orion's reflex to bolt was overpowered by frozen terror. No! Not again! He was going to stay out of trouble this time, too! He was even going to bring it back!

Slowly, stiffly, the troublemaker turned, only for his stomach to drop to confirm his suspicions. A black and white cruiser crawled out of the darkness of the light. Sinister shadows clinging to it and the light of a nearby lamppost reflected off of it in a sadistic gleam. Before Orion could peer through the tinted windows to meet the driver's eyes, suddenly the low headlights turned bright.

The teen couldn't help but wince as the harsh white light assaulted him, burning his eyes. He instinctively raised his hands to shield his eyes, but then realizing his mistake, Orion straightened once again. He lifted his hands above his head, trying to keep the tremble from his arms. He felt his mouth going dry and tried to swallow but it was as though his saliva glands had shriveled up. Nervously, he coughed and then finally found his voice.

"Is there a problem officer?"

He got no response. Technically he didn't commit a crime...yet. He only opened an unlocked door! Orion, still fueled by adrenaline, began to nervously ramble in an effort to avoid being arrested.

"I promise, I'm not stealing this car! I-it's mine...err-rather a friend of mine. An idiot who doesn't take care of his ride."

The police cruiser revved the engine angrily and inched forward. Orion's eyes went wide and he raised his hands higher in surrender.

"O-okay, I lied. I don't know the owner but the driver's side door _was_ unlocked! I swear!"

Orion felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end but not from the cold. There was something very strange about the police car in front of him. It was just a feeling but it came with a logical question: why hadn't the officer stepped out of his cruiser yet to either ticket, reprimand, or arrest him?

"I-if you give me a warning now, I promise never to do anything like this again!" Orion began to feel a bit frustrated that the officer wasn't responding. "Um… officer?"

Then a strange sound came from the vehicle. It was metallic, like gears turning and grinding. Plating shifted and folded in on itself, pulling back to reveal extending wires and turing gears and rotating pistons.

And then the car just… stood up.

"Holy _shit_!" Orion cried, backpedaling so fast he tripped over his own feet

He fell onto his back, using his elbows and hands to crawl backwards as the ground shuddered beneath him with metallic groans. His eyes went impossibly wide and his mouth dropped open as he stared at the nearly twenty-foot tall robot looming over him. The metal plating-which looked like armor-ended in sharp, deadly edges. Doors were replaced by claws hands, round tires were replaced by taloned feet. Glaring headlights were replaced by burning crimson eyes.

The metal giant seemed to narrow its hellish gaze at him, giving him a nasty glare and accompanying growl, revealing a fanged mouth. The sound so loud it almost seemed to rattle his bones. Orion felt his body began to shake, unable to process what was in front of him. What the hell _was_ this thing?

" _So… the Autobots have a new_ pet _?"_ it spoke, in a deep, gravelly voice, filled with an unnatural, metallic twang. It was a foreign, electronic sounding language. And somehow, Orion _understood_ what it was saying. It was so grating, an ache spread across the boy's skull. As if to confirm it was true, the robot went on, " _So, this is where you've been hiding, Bumblebee. One bug to another…"_

Suddenly the robot moved forward, raising his foot over Orion as if to stomp him. The teenager screamed and instinctively covered his head, even though it would be no good. Then suddenly there was a tremendous thud beside him, so violent that the asphalt underneath him cracked.

Orion gasped, every fiber in his body _screaming_ for him to run, but there was nowhere to go. He was boxed in between the Camaro and the monster's foot, the giant robot looming over him like a predator. Orion's eyes landed on the odd insignia on the robot's chest. It was a sharp, angled sigil, almost looking like a masked face with two sinister horns rising from it.

Suddenly the ache in his head bloomed into a migraine, so harsh and violent Orion snarled and gripped his head. The symbol flashed across his eyes, etching into his retinas. Like the talons of a beast, he felt it sink in his flesh, his heart, his _soul_. His panic gave way to an entirely different emotion as a wave of incomprehensible recognition coursed through him. He… knew that insignia…

The world around around him vanished. The Camaro, the monster, the asphalt, and the frigid air were replaced by metal walls.

 _Nightstalker considered it a rare treat to be allowed in the training room. He wasn't old enough to learn combat yet, due to his fragile frame, but his Sire let him watch from the sidelines. The young spark watched as a black and white Decepticon fought against the fearsome Decepticon leader. The new mech-in-training had doorwings, suggesting his alternate mode was ground-based. It seemed odd that he wasn't a flier like all the others._

 _He watched with intrigue as both warriors engaged in combat, their fluid movements well-practiced and mesmerizing, like a dance. The small mechling flinched when his sire expertly performed a takedown maneuver, effectively pinning his opponent beneath his massive pede. The silver titan had his armblade against the loser's throat and he growled at his subordinate._

" _ALWAYS keep up your guard! You expect your opponent to be fair?!"_

 _The Decepticon leader removed his pede and allowed the Con to rise to his feet for another match._

" _Again, Barricade! Remember...show no mercy…for none shall be given to you."_

 _Nightstalker soon got bored with watching and eventually began to try and copy their fighting moves. Soon the mechling was kicking and punching an invisible enemy. Releasing a shrill growl, the little one felt shamed that it sounded more like a pitiful mewl, not at all intimidating like the other warriors. He was surprised when a tiny arm-blade protracted from his right arm. A natural weapon that would continue to grow as he aged. He stared at it with awe and began to stab and swipe the empty air with it, unaware that the sparring match between the elder mechs had ended. He was disappointed when the tiny weapon suddenly disappeared back into his arm guard. He shook the appendage, unsure of how to get it to pop back out. He wanted to show his sire! Grunting in frustration, the mechling froze when a large shadow fell over him. Craning his neck to look up over his shoulder, he was greeted with his sire's fangs, glinting in an amused smile._

" _Ah, so it seems my heir has developed his first weapon," Megatron said in a pleased purr._

 _Barricade stood a little behind him, surprise in his optics. "He's… quite young for his natural weapon to emerge so soon."_

" _All the more reason he will be a worthy heir. You see yourself a fighter, little one?"_

" _I_ _ **am**_ _a fighter!" Nightstalker retorted proudly. "One day I will be as great as you!"_

 _His sire's optics flickered at that in a rare expression of surprise. Then that smile returned, appearing almost pleased._

" _Then you will be my Champion, dear Nightstalker." Talons reached down, and suddenly the youngling was plucked up from the ground._

 _Megatron's thick, protective arms wrapped around him. Nightstalker found himself pressed against his sire's chest, against the purple, proud emblem of the Fallen. The powerful, steady thrumming of his sire's spark-beat against his audial soothed and relaxed him. Gentle claws stroked down his back plating and the mechling could feel through their spark-bond, his sire's protective, possessiveness for him, and the pride he felt for Nightstalker's rare achievement._

" _Champion of the Decepticons…" the former gladiator purred._

Orion was pulled out of the vision just as quickly as it had started, the sensations of his surroundings hitting him like a wall. A wave of disorientation washed over him, pierced by a strangled noise of hitching gears. There was a sputtering engine and a terrible grinding sound as the ground trembled underneath the teenager's fingertips.

Orion's vision was blurry, and his mind felt like it was disconnected with reality. Unaware that in the midst of his incoherent babble, he'd screamed out a name. A weakness washed over him and Orion saw darkness quickly filling his vision. His hearing began to fade as consciousness left him, but not before he heard the startled roar of the black and white mech.

Suddenly yellow filled his vision and for a moment he felt weightless. Then everything went black…

* * *

Megatron glared down at the sorry excuse of a Decepticon before him. Barricade's servos hung by his sides and his helm was bowed low, optics trained on his pedes, not daring to look his leader in the optics. Instead of a beaten, mangled frame, Barricade's armor was nearly pristine, with only a few scratches to tell there was a scuffle.

Instead of an execution.

"I gave you one simple task," Megatron growled lowly, reverberating across the bridge like ominous thunder.

"M-Master," Barricade started, a shudder coursing through his chassis, only to be interrupted by his lord's furious roar.

"Bring me the head of the scout! Who was cut off from all communication with his cohorts. Who was half-dead, thanks to the combined efforts of Shockwave and Starscream." Megatron gestured to his lieutenants, who stood off to the side, their EM fields hot and dangerous. Yet, you return with _NOTHING!_ "

The Decepticon could not help but flinch at the harsh tone, but did not dare move from his spot. Megatron saw Knock Out in the corner of his optics, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning in amusement at his comrade's misery. The floor trembled as the Decepticon leader paced back and forth in powerful, dangerous strides. Like a predator. His bristling armor was further testament to his dark mood.

"So tell me, as leader of my enforcers, how did you manage to allow a _youngling_ to escape your grasp?"

Barricade shifted his weight, knowing he was standing on dangerous ground. He could either continue to remain silent and await his inevitable execution...or dare to save his life by presenting his lord with the intriguing details of his encounter with that strange human boy.

"The… the Autobot was with a fleshling, my liege," the mech answered cautiously, only to shudder when those crimson optics flashed.

"So you mean to tell me you were thwarted by an _insect_?" Megatron snarled.

"The human youngling _understood_ our language. Something strange happened to it. It KNEW my name...," Barricade quickly spoke, praying he wasn't making a mistake by further risking his master's wrath.

Standing behind Megatron's right shoulder, Starscream rolled his optics as he tucked his talons behind his back. "Oh, _please_. If it was an Autobot pet, it's heard our language before! And you're name is not all that _special_."

However, Shockwave's antennas were tilted back, his single optic brightening. "Humans are not physically capable of speaking Cybertronian."

"It is unlike you to try such a pathetic ploy to save your own spark, Barricade," Megatron snarled, looking down at his subordinate with disdain.

Barricade focused his full attention on his master. He humbly knelt on one knee, with helm bowed and one servo held high, and presented a flat, silver disk to lord Megatron.

"Here is proof, my lord. The boy had no knowledge of who I was, did not even recognize me."

"You're depending your claim on human _eyesight_ ," Starscream drawled. "There are blind Insecticons that have better-"

" **Silence**!" Megatron snapped over his shoulder. The second-in-command flinched at the violent order, wings going flat on his back as he stepped away from his leader's deadly glare. The Decepticon leader turned to Barricade, optics narrowing as he growled harshly, "And what would be the worth of this claim?"

"More than an Autobot head," Barricade boldly replied. "I would stake my spark on it."

"Then if I am disappointed, I will take it."

With that ominous threat, the Decpeticon leader snatched the disc out of Barricade's frozen servo. Turning to the terminal taking up the center of the bridge, Megatron uploaded the disc into the server. Barricade continued to bow humbly, too stiff to move, while the other Decepticons neared the screen with interest. Even Knock Out craned his neck from his spot, eyeing it with a single optic.

 _/Designation: Barricade - Surveillance Protocols: Initiated/_

 _Barricade crept down the darkened streets of a human city, tiny structures on either side of him. His scanners were working overtime as he followed the energon trail that Bumblebee had leaked during his attempted escape. The trail ended on the outskirts of the city, near a human housing district._

 _Trusting his hunting instincts, the disguised Decepticon decided a quick sweep of the area would give him a valuable clue as to Bumblebee's current whereabouts. His camera soon zoomed in to see a yellow Camaro with a black racing stripe parked innocently next to the curb. His scanners detected a human presence. Setting off his lights, he attempted to scare the human off, seeing as how many were frightened of law enforcement. Rolling to a stop beside the injured Bumblebee, Barricade encountered the human attempting to steal the damaged Autobot. An Autobot pet?_

 _The human looked startled and raised his hands in surrender. It started babbling then, chattering that guttural language, English. Something about the fleshling really thought the Cybertronian was an actual human. The Autobots were really desperate for entertainment, to pick up such an aggravating insect._

 _Barricade transformed, eager to squash both the bugs._

" _So… the Autobots have a new_ pet _?" he cackled, enjoying its trembling form as it stared up at him in shock and terror. "So, this is where you've been hiding, Bumblebee. One bug to another…" he spoke in rapid Cybertronian._

 _The Autobot didn't reply, either locked in stasis or still trying to online. The enforcer detected an EM field radiating from the vehicle. Weak, but steady. Not for long._

 _Barricade marched forward, ignoring the human's existence. Until it let out a shrill scream._

 _He glanced down at the odd noise, only to see the thing fall to the ground, flailing and clutching its furry 's when he heard it. The fleshling croaked out but not in its native Earth language._

" _ **Barricade, I'll be a Champion..."**_

 _The enforcer could only blink in shocked awe as the little thing continued to experience some odd malfunction in its processor. He was so stunned that he had forgotten all about the Autobot scout he was supposed to terminate. Barricade heard the sound of a transformation too late, snarling in rage when the yellow scout snatched the strange human and shoved him inside his cab. Barricade transformed back into vehicle mode and gave chase. Unfortunately he lost them fifteen minutes later, the scout no doubt hiding. The coward…_

 _/Surveillance shut-down initiated/_

The view screen went dark while the observers stood in stunned didn't last long, though.

"Impossible!" Starscream barked, slashing his talons through the air. "It's… it's-!"

"Illogical," Shockwave muttered, trapped in his own thoughts.

"Exactly!" Starscream sputtered as he turned wide optics on his leader. "That was nonsense, not Cybertronian!"

Barricade continued to kneel with his head bowed, awaiting his Master's final verdict. "I swear to you, my Lord, it is what happened."

Megatron glanced down at his chief enforcer with an inscrutable expression, but was rudely interrupted before he could reply.

"I know that fleshling!" Knock-Out blurted without considering the consequences of such a confession. He realized his mistake and stiffened when vermillion optics turned to him.

"And how, pray tell, is that possible?" the Decepticon leader questioned.

"Erm.. he… was the human that… uh... damaged me during the race-I mean, patrol."

The medic squirmed under Megatron's narrowing glare, and barely avoided leaking transmission fluid as he sensed his master's darkening EM field. Meanwhile Starscream merely shook his head.

"And how can you be so sure about that? How would you tell one human from another?"

"Because that filthy, disgusting, noisy vermin ruined my _paint job_!" Knock Out complained in a furious yell, stomping his pedes on the ground in a furious fit. "I should have known when he spoke Cybertronian then-"

The medic froze once again as he blurted out the words, glancing with a fearful gaze at Megatron without moving his helm. Those hellish optics narrowed a fraction. While the warlord remained deadly quiet, Starscream continued his assault.

"If that is true, why didn't you report it?"

Knockout scowled at the air commander and huffed. "I was a little _busy_ receiving my punishment from Lord Megatron! It didn't seem _relevant_ at the time!"

"It's standard protocol! Think its relevant _**now**_?!" Starscream's wings twitched as he snarled in annoyance.

"I **would** have reported it but I wasn't going to be stupid and risk Lord Megatron's wrath any further!"

Before the snarky air commander could retort, everyone present in the room stiffened at Megatron's unexpected bellow.

" _SILENCE_!"

All optical sensors immediately focused on their leader, Barricade daring to go so far as to minutely lift his bowed helm to see. A shudder rippled down his spinal strut when his master focused hellish red optics on him.

"Your spark shall remain where it is for now, Barricade," Megatron announced darkly.

Barricade dared to blink in surprise, but quickly bowed his helm in graciousness. "Thank you, my Lord…"

Several pairs of optics stared, but no one dared to question the warlord as he continued, "Should you fail me again, I will not be so merciful. The same goes for you, _Knock Out_."

Megatron's even tone turned to a savage growl, glaring at the medic savagely. The Aston Martin flinched with a small squeak, before bowing his helm like Barricade and placing a servo over his spark.

"I understand, Master."

"Soundwave."

It was then another figure stepped forward, from where they watched the meeting from the shadows of the bridge. The surveillance chief looked like a dark phantom, and Knock Out unconsciously stepped away from the mech.

"You learn all there is to know about the fleshling...I want _everything_ ," he emphasized before turning to regard his second in command, "Starscream, have your Seeker armada stand by until further orders."

Megatron turned to address all who were present with a wicked, fanged smirk. "Should the fleshling attempt to communicate with the Autobots... _destroy them_...and bring the child _to me_."


End file.
